


Into the Dark to Find the Light

by LoveDrift



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Gore, Graphic Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Injury Recovery, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Major Character Injury, Maybe a little sticky, Rape, Rape Recovery, Torture, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-21
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-27 06:20:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/975464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveDrift/pseuds/LoveDrift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Drifts banishment he is captured by Turmoil. Wing is alive and along with Dai Atlas and Axe he joins up with Roddy and crew after the events on Luna 1. Wing and Percy  leave to find their beloved Drift. Torture, drug use, non-con, violence, somewhat sticky 'facing, fluff, love and tons of h/c.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is only my third fic and first about Drift.....aaaaaaannnnnnnnd my first work in a long time. Please be kind...I am very self-conscious about my work *nervous grin* I am no where near done and I will try to update as soon as I can, for those of you who like it. I know there are plenty of mistakes and I apologize. I keep reading and re-reading lol but my eyes do tend to miss things. Oh and the interaction between Dai Atlas and Rodimus was written by my most best of friends, who, as luck would have it, is also my muse! We brainstorm like crazy together and she has been an enormous help with this! I have another muse as well. Another very good friend. Her and I role play together, just like me and my bestie lol and it is her fabulous role play of Wing to my Drift which is my inspiration for Wing. If I inadvertently write something similar to what anyone else has written, I apologize, for that was not my intention. I read so many fanfics that it is possible for some of them to have bled through...if I need to give credit where it is due, I will. There are two of you out there that I absolutely loooove! You guys write so utterly fantastically that you leave me in awe. I have laughed and cried and, just...wow..but anyway...I'm rambling...so please...enjoy. *crosses fingers hoping all who read, like*

PRESENT  
THE LOST LIGHT  
TWO MONTHS AFTER THE BATTLE ON LUNA 1

 

“I don’t care what you say! Captain or not we must save him!! You don’t know him like I do,” screams the beautiful white jet, his intakes heaving; golden optics glowing fierce as he argues with our beloved Captain. However much Perceptor thought that Drift and Wing loved each other was nothing compared with actually seeing it firsthand. “Perceptor, please…PLEASE tell him we must go after Drift,” pleads Wing. 

Oh how Perceptor hates that look. Don’t look at me like that, Wing, Perceptor thinks. What he hates even more though, is just thinking of Drift in trouble. His spark breaks. “Rodimus, I agree with Wing. Please. He saved my life. No matter what happened here, he does not deserve the fate you have abandoned him too. I do not believe he was acting alone-” 

“Neither do I, “interrupts Ratchet. “That kid has been through hell and back and what you did to him was WRONG. He never should have been cast out…stripped of his Autobrand. You acted without thinking. You have no idea what you have done. His sanity, his TRUST is such a fragile thing and you shattered it. You threw him away! He’s been discarded enough!”

“I did what I had to do! He deserved exile! What’s wrong with all of you!? Because of him people died! THEY DIED,” retorts Rodimus, his own intakes heaving and fans whirring hard.

“And do you honestly think for one minute that Drift is NOT beating himself up because of it! Where was your inquiry, hm? Where? You just accepted what he said because of where he came from? Who he was,” Wing growls, his jet engines rumbling with anger. “You don’t know him! I will go to him whether you allow me to or not!”

Thank Primus for Wing for saying what Perceptor can’t, the sniper thinks. “He is most assuredly right, Rodimus. Drift is a GOOD mech. He has a good spark. I spent many long hours with Drift, over the course of many years,” Perceptor looks at Wing, hoping it’s not to accusatory, “he…he blamed himself for your, ‘death’, Wing. He took it so very, very hard, and I know that he will take this personally-to spark,” The poor scientist turned sniper can only look at his hands as he speaks, far too afraid to look at anyone for fear they will see how glaringly obvious his feelings are for Drift, his savior. “It is my recommendation that we, that is Wing and I…” yes, that’s right, do not look so surprised, Wing, I would never let you go and rescue Drift without me, the sniper thinks, “...leave at once. No one else need come.” Perceptor watches as Rodimus stands tall, armor flaring, arms folded across his chest, his electromagnetic field (EMF) pulled in tight with a very stubborn look of denial blazoned on his face. One would never guess he and Drift had ever been friends. This behavior from Ratchet, however, is most unexpected. One would think…no…not Ratchet…

“Rodimus! It’s Turmoil! TURMOIL! Was the fragging spilt energon all over Drifts slagging shuttle any clue of how incredibly desperate his situation is?!!? Don’t you realize what he’s doing to him!! Perceptor, you go, keep him alive till I can repair him. I didn’t save his slagging, pit-spawned, frustrating, and stubborn aft twice already to let him die because of your hurt feelings, Captain!! I am overruling you as CMO, Rodimus! And don’t you dare look at me like that…you know I can!” And with that Ratchet storms off.

Primus bless him too. The sniper looks over at Wing and nods, turning on his heel and heading to Drift’s hab suite. Perceptor hears Rodimus cry out into the empty bridge as he and Wing walk away. “Wish you were here, Magnus…” 

So do I Rodimus, so do I. Then this would not be happening, Perceptor reflects.“You know, Wing, it would have been nice had you or Dai Atlas had told Drift that you were alive…”

“Yes, I-I wish that I could have, Perceptor. It wounds my spark to know that he suffered for so long and still continues to suffer. My poor Drift. Thank you for being his friend. Thank you for standing by him and coming along,” Wing looks around noticing the change of direction.

So he picked up on our change of direction, more perceptive than I gave you credit for, muses the sniper. Wow. Your Drift? Being his friend? The sniper quickly chokes down his anger. Drift belongs to no one, but Perceptor knows as soon as Drift see’s Wing, his chance to be with him will be annihilated into a million fragments of the microscope shattered spark. Oh Drift…I never should have let you walk away alone...I should have…Perceptor can barely finish his thought, so distraught he is.

“Should we not be heading for a shuttle though?” Wing asks, nudging Perceptor from his distressing thoughts.

“We will head to a shuttle once I have collected his swords…” as he speaks Perceptor is commed by Ratchet.

:: Perceptor, First Aid and I have loaded your shuttle with supplies. Bring him home in one piece. Tell him…never mind. I’ll tell him myself::

::I will Ratchet. Thank you::

“His swords? He left without them? Oh…oh …Drift…” Wing even looks resplendently perfect when he’s worried.

I do not stand a chance, stop Perceptor; this is about Drift, not you Perceptor muses, once again lost in his own world, “Hm? What? Yes, the shuttle is ready, Ratchet just informed me.” He cants his helm as they come to a stop in front of Drifts hab suite.

“Uh, no…well that’s good, but I was asking about his swords…Perceptor, he will be alright.” Wing says, doing his very best to be comforting.

“Ah....yes, he left his swords…all three of them. I don’t know why. I couldn’t …I couldn’t get to him in time. He is alone and weaponless,” The spark breaking look on Wings face is hard to miss as Perceptor grabs Drifts swords. “Come on. We have wasted far too much time as it is already.” With that Wing nods and they race to the shuttle bay. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

TWO MONTHS PRIOR  
SIX DAYS AFTER DRIFTS BANISHMENT  
TURMOILS SHIP

“Deadlock? You are certain?”

“Yes, Turmoil. That is his energy signature without a doubt,”

“Bring him to me and jettison his shuttle. NOW! Heheheheh…oh Deadlock, how I have waited for this very moment…”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

PRESENT  
TURMOILS SHIP: BRIG

 

“AAAAARGHHHH!!!! F-FRAG…..Y-YOU,” Drift hisses; the pain from yet another crushing blow to his stomach causing him to purge his fuel starved tanks. Months of the same endless torture, with no end in sight. The room fizzes into a sickly, bright white haze as he is kicked across the cell, slamming heavily into the wall. Another well placed kick, another pinched and severed line. And no one to save him. No Gasket. No Wing. Wing…oh Wing…”URGH!” Turmoil lifts Drift up and pins him to wall of the cell by his throat. 

“Oh my dear Deadlock, does this hurt?” Turmoil squeezes the much smaller red and white mechs throat. Drifts vision fritzes to white again as he kicks with his legs and claws with his hands. “What’s that? Nothing to say?” 

Oh I have plenty to say, fragger, Drift thinks as Turmoil’s ferocious grip loosens ever so slightly to allow Drift to speak.“It’s…D-Drift…” Drift croaks in a burst of static. The look on Turmoil’s face at that sends s shudder right up his spinal struts.

“Of course it is. Just like you still have that disgusting red insignia on your chest plate…oh but wait…” Turmoil retracts his battle mask and a predatory grin curls on his lips. “…you no longer wear the sigil of your current faction. Thrown away again, I see…tell me…DEADLOCK…does it bother you to know that not a single soul in this entire world wants you?” To emphasize his point, the very large and black mech picks up a barbed length of metal pole and drives it slowly into Drifts already damaged stomach; Turmoil’s hand never leaving Drifts neck. Drift screams in excruciating, white-hot agony, struggling like some wild creature, which unfortunately arouses Turmoil like nothing else. Energon leaks out running down the swordsmechs frame and pooling onto the floor. His intakes rattle with the effort of sucking in air to cool his overheating frame. “Well? What is your answer, Deadlock?” Drifts engines whine pitifully in distress as sobs are ripped from his vocalizer. “Perhaps we need more incentive for you to talk, hm?” 

Thinking has become phenomenally difficult at this point, but Drift manages to croak out, “I’m…h-here…c-cos…Y-YOU…w-wanted muh…me…” with a nasty smirk. He watches, groping the bar through his stomach for purchase, trying, in vain, to keep himself upright as Turmoil’s smile widens. And then the glitch laughs. “F-Frag you…”

“Gutter mech to the end, hm? Ha ha ha ha ha! Oh Deadlock! You know…I have something I wish to show you. I had it made with you in mind,” with that Turmoil yanks the white mech violently from the wall and deposits him on the ground. He then silently activates something. The quiet hisses of hydraulics activating fill the stillness of the room, as twelve bars, each about the size of Drifts fist in width and about half his height, slowly slide up from the floor and lock into place. The smile on Turmoil’s face gets bigger. 

Drift lays on the floor, intakes heaving, energon slowly pumping from his wounds and laughs. “You’re even stupider than I thought,” He coughs up energon that is beginning to pool in his intakes and spits it at Turmoil. “Poles? That’s all ya got? Get slagged...”

“It’s you who is stupid, dear Deadlock. Running around weaponless? Tisk tisk…Ending up here?…Tisk tisk,” Turmoil sneers and grabs Drift by his helm, licking the energon from his face where the swordsmechs had landed his spit. “Delicious, Deadlock, but time enough for that later.” Turmoil hauls Drift over to the blunt edged bars protruding from the floor as Drift, now finally figuring out what he plans on doing, struggles pathetically. “Do you know what’s special about your restraints,” he asks as he places Drift atop each bar, lining him up so that each bar is pressed to a joint. “I can run current through them or heat them up. Which shall we start with?” Wasting no time to be denied his prize, Turmoil slams Drift down on to the bars. Each bar impaling him through his wrists, elbows, shoulders, hips, knees and ankles, his lower half spread wide apart.

Drifts agonized scream is unlike anything either mech has ever heard, as he is viciously, violently impaled. His vision cuts out as everything turns to a white static. His vents cycle hard and his fans short out. Several racking sobs of pure, unbridled mind-shattering torment echo around the cell as he writhes in pain. 

“Heat, perhaps? Yes? Good.” Turmoil gives another silent command and each bar glows red hot. “How’s that, Deadlock? Doesn’t that smell delightful!”

“AAAAAAAHHHHHAAAAARGHHHH!” Pain! White hot burning, horrible pain! Drift arches his back in agony, howling in misery. He can smell his circuits burning sickeningly from the inside and it churns his tanks. His spark fluxes frantic and wild in his chest. Does he really deserve this? He saved lives, he tried, right? Doesn’t that count for something? Anything?

“Now, now that will never do. I need you alive and coherent,” Turmoil mercifully turns off the heat. “I do like this new frame of yours, Deadlock,” a lustful growl emits from his vocalizer, sending shivers up Drifts spinal struts, for he knows what’s coming. Turmoil straddles him and begins to grope the struggling mech. He flicks out his glossa and laps at the energon leaking from Drifts shoulder.  
“You taste even sweeter than before, my dear Deadlock. Shall we have a look and see how that cold, wretched little spark of yours is doing?” 

Drift shakes his helm violently and tries, Primus bless him does he try to back away. Turmoil rips off Drifts chest plate and tosses it aside, gloating at the sight beneath him. Drifts helm is turned away, as if by not looking, it’s not happening. His spark glows bright blue with flecks of brilliant white arcing and swirling around it as it gutters and erratically fluxes inside its chamber. A large hand snakes its way across the exposed chamber in an almost loving caress before violently digging its fingers into the soft mesh of the chamber. Drift shudders and howls as he is violated; his spark receding deeper into its chamber. Turmoil purrs and smashes his mouth against Drifts. Tears stream down Drifts face as rage, shame and brutal agony flare wildly in his EMF. With a snarl he, clamps his denta down on Turmoil’s probing glossa. Big mistake. Turmoil’s claws rip into his chamber, leaving him convulsing in agony. 

“Ya want it rough, Deadlock? Gooooooood. So do I!” Turmoil growls as he tweaks a finial, hard, before ripping off Drifts panel. Another howl of agony from Drift. Oh how he could listen to that all day. Turmoil shivers with lust. “Oh Deadlock how I have missed those cries of pain! Would you believe I haven’t had a decent berth warmer since your traitorous whore aft left? No one quite compares to your beautiful bellows of agony. No one else can pull off such shame and humiliation while I drive into them,” Turmoil softly, almost…lovingly strokes the side of Drifts face. He then grips the base of the broken mechs finial and pulls him close, whispering, “I am going to make you suffer, Deadlock. Make you bleed. I will break you piece, by piece. I know allllllllll about you. I know what you feared in the gutters of the Dead End. You WILL pay. Oh, Deadlock will you pay.” Without any more foreplay, Turmoil releases his turgid, barbed, enormous spike and slams it deep into Drifts small valve.

Drifts optics go wide and white with agonizing, blinding pain as Turmoil pounds relentlessly into him. He can feel the lining tear; mesh walls shred and pieces fall out with every agonizing thrust. He can’t help but sob brokenly as he is internally destroyed. Energon copiously pours from his destroyed valve. He shivers and convulses as he each upward thrust pushes his frame into and away from the poles pinning him to the floor. The swordsmechs is dimly aware at some point that Turmoil has activated the electrical charge on the poles, because he feels current blazing through him. It’s too much. Primus, it’s all far too much. His thoughts drift from Gasket to Wing to Perceptor and back to Wing as his frame is ravaged, trying to find some form of comfort. Ratchet will be pissed, Drift muses, followed by a laugh. Turmoil snarls and slams deep and HARD into his valve, which eviscerates his ceiling node. Oh would you just overload already…for the love of…”AHHHHHHH!!! URGH!” 

Transfluid erupts from Turmoil’s spike along with a howl from his vocalizer. He then pulls out as he continues to overload and coats Drifts face with his transfluid. “That’s a good buymech…uhn…now lick it off!” 

“…f-f-frag…y-you……..” Drift croaks.

“No…frag YOU,” With that Turmoil shoves his spike into Drifts mouth, snapping his jaw in the process to accommodate his girth. Turmoil roars with laughter, overloading again from Drifts agony. 

Hate, pain, shame and rage smolder in Drifts optics as Turmoil pumps into his mouth. He tries to bite down, but has no force with his broken jaw. As Turmoil overloads, Drift purges and nearly chokes. The strain on his systems is far too much. The pain is immense and throbbing through his entire sensor net. The desolate swordsmech lolls his helm from side to side, completely incoherent, mumbling Perceptor and Wing pitifully, energon leaking and pooling all around him.

“Done already, Deadlock? Pity.” With that Turmoil leaves his prey to spark, twitch and leak his way back to consciousness so that the cycle can be again. Just like it has for the past two months prior.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

LOST LIGHT SHUTTLE  
PRESENT  
WING AND PERCEPTOR

Perceptor idly drums his fingers against the console as he watches the monitors following Drifts energy signature. The fact that it has steadily been fading is worrisome enough without the threat of that damned perfect and beautiful jet hovering about and oh dear does he have such a hard time hating him. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. The more time they spend together, the more Perceptor can see Drifts attraction to him. Of course the fact that Wing loves Drift, truly, purely, madly, deeply, unconditionally, is yet one more reason. A heavy sigh leaves his vents.

“I am worried too, Perceptor,” the white jet remarks, his hand a gentle presence over the dial on the snipers arm, which sends a tingle straight up Perceptor’s spinal strut. “We will find him in time. Of that I have no doubt,” Oh there it is…that gentle, serene, hopeful smile. Perceptor’s own expression, a thin line compressed across his lips. Wing smiles again, this time he laughs a lilting, airy laugh. “You are just like him. That same dour expression of which conveys despair and no hope, practically screaming with negativity! It will be okay. He will hang on for us.”

The scientist-turned-sniper casts a wary glance at his beautiful companion. “I hope you are right, but….Wing, this broke him…I-I know it did…he…may not WANT to hang on. He doesn’t even know you are alive and I doubt he will hang on for-“ 

“For you? I think he will. You do not give yourself enough credit, Perceptor. I can see how much you love him. We have that in common,”

“I, uh, I have no idea what you are talking about, Wing,” stammers Perceptor. “We are friends, nothing more than that I assure you,” the disappointment is painfully obvious in his voice. “He loves you, though he may not speak much on the subject, I am most certain of it.”

Wings perfect smile brightens and grows wider, his folded wings wiggling as he listens. “Oh Perceptor! It is very obvious how much you love him! I think it is wonderful! Our Drift needs love…he needs to be cared for. To see that he is worth it, which you and I both know he is.” Another gracious smile, along with a blush, from the beautiful knight. “Certain of it? How so?" Wing cants his helm, optics glittering, shining like the sun.

“In spite of himself, Perceptor smiles a rare smile. “Oh Wing, our Drift, for one will gaze lovingly and longingly at the crystal in the sword, tenderly stroking it, unaware that he is even doing it, every time he polishes the sword. Secondly, he speaks to the sword; again, unaware that he is doing it and that I am very much aware of it. Finally,” he pauses, venting softly before finishing, “he talks in his sleep. And before you ask, no, we have never…interfaced, we merely roomed together on the Trion.”

Wings golden optics sparkle and glow even brighter, his blush deepens as he listens to Perceptor. A few tears sliding down his perfect cheeks. “Oh Drift! My-er-our poor, poor Drift! Oh Perceptor!” Completely unexpected, Wing embraces the sniper and nuzzles into his neck. 

“Oh! Oh my! Wing!” Perceptor blushes crimson, tentatively wrapping his arms around the smaller, yet still larger than Drift, mech. He soon finds himself nuzzling back, their cheeks tenderly brushing against each other, their EMF’s caressing each other’s and sharing their mutual love for Drift. 

Wing shifts and leans his forehelm on Perceptor’s, delicately rubbing his nose. “Perceptor, I like you, I daresay I will love you and I love Drift; with my entire spark, just like you. I have since the moment I set optics upon him. Just. Like. You. I am willing to share. He needs us both, Perceptor.”

The scientist-turned-sniper rubs the jets nose in return; feeling just a little silly until Wing eloquently speaks. Now it is he who tears up, able only to croak out one word. The only word that at this moment matters. “Yes.”

Without another word, Wing presses his lips against the trembling Perceptor, moaning softly when he kisses him back. The jet gracefully pulls the larger mech up, bodies pressing together, and wraps his arms around Perceptor’s neck.

Perceptor freezes, tense, unsure of to respond at first, but the warmth of Wings frame and sweetness of his mouth are enough to quell his questioning of why Wing would find him attractive enough to kiss in the first place. He runs his hands down Wings sides and rests them on the jets slender hips, moaning softly as their glossa entwine.

The white jet whimpers into Perceptor’s mouth when his hips are touched. It has been too long. Too long dreaming of Drift. Wanting him. Needing him. And now, Perceptor; as close to Drift as he can get, the scientist, not without his own charms. Wing groans again into the snipers delicious mouth, this time playfully pulling back just enough to suckle on his lower lip. Golden optics glitter as they peer into bright blue, seeking reassurance, permission. The handsome microscope growls his approval; his own desire and need matching that of Wings. The jet lets out a happy trill and gently pulls Perceptor backwards toward the small habitation suite. “I want you, Perceptor….please?”

“Wing….I…have not been with anyone in a very long time….and…I am...”

“Beautiful, Perceptor, absolutely beautiful.” Wings smiles that ravishing smile, Perceptor positively melts, and both of them collapse onto the berth in a tangle of limbs. He dances his hands up Perceptor’s back, teasingly fondling the tubing that wraps around the snipers waist and connects to his chest plate. A wanton moan escapes Perceptor’s vocalizer as he devours Wings mouth. The jet smiles into the kiss and nibbles his way from those smooth lips to his jaw and then Perceptor’s neck.

“Wing…” Perceptor breathlessly exclaims.

“Mmmm, yes lover?” Wing asks, arching up into him, gliding his frame against the snipers. He laughs airily and licks around Perceptor’s scope mount and then up the shaft before the sniper can answer. That was all it took for Perceptor to cry out and retract his panel, his spike cover irising open and revealing his very large, very pressurized spike. “Oh yes, my love, mmm,” Wing purrs as he mouths at Perceptor’s lens. “I want you too…” with that Wings skirt plating shifts, his own panel opening along with his valve cover. A wash of lubricant drools out and over coaxing Perceptor’s spike closer.

“Wing, I…oh my…” without another word, Perceptor leans down, optics dark with lust and locked with Wings, he slowly pushes into the velvet warmth of the white jet.

“Shhh love…” Wing purrs as he wraps his legs around Perceptor’s waist, sheathing him deeper. The white jet nuzzles his cheek against him and whispers: “I love him too. This for Drift. Our Drift.” Perceptor tenderly kisses Wing, making love with him, sharing their love for Drift.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TURMOIL’S SHIP  
THE BRIG  
PRESENT

Smell. Smell and hearing; always the first to come back from that horrible return to consciousness. The smell was Drift. His spent energon sticking to him, in a violet pool all around him, causing the swordsmechs to gag. The sound was not that much better; Turmoil’s foot falls. Drift tries to move, which was a VERY bad idea. Pain, electric and white-hot rips through him with abandon. His howls of agony are spark breaking as they echo off the walls of his prison, before the wonderful blackness consumes him once again.

“Wakey wakey, my darling gutter rat," Drift snarls in response to Turmoils insults. "Oooooo, now, now, is that snarl any way to greet the mech who comes bearing gifts?” Turmoil coos pleasantly.

“Guh…get…fuh…fragged…” Drift’s shaky reply is coated with static; his jaw only half healed from the very slow going of his self-repair. His optics widen as he stares up at Turmoil hovering above him, dangling the circuit booster over his helm, half of him wanting, half of him terrified and repulsed. “N-NO! P-Please! PLEASE! I’m clean!!”

“Ha ha ha ha! Poor, poor, Deadlock! You know what they say….once an addict, always an addict.” Turmoil’s roar of sinister laughter is sickening. “Come now, you know you want it,” he teases, dangling the circuit booster in front of his face. “It’ll help with the pain, Deadlock; don’t you want the pain to stop? How is that used up valve of yours, anyway? Turmoil’s feel his charge rapidly building at the feral look in Drifts optics. Oh how he wants it! And he’ll get it! Turmoil slams his fist down on Drifts already eviscerated valve, ruthlessly and brutally shoving three of his thick fingers inside, shuddering with ecstasy at the delicious agonized scream torn form Drift. “Oh yes, Deadlock! Scream for your master! Scream!!!” 

“Stuh…s-stuh…p…puh…p-please…” Drift painfully,brokenly stutters. Oh slagging sweet Primus it hurts! Please! Gasket! Wing! Help me….please….help…make it stop! Please, the despondent swordsmechs silently pleads. Tears stream down his face, too far gone to care about looking weak. He is weak. Weak and alone. Unwanted. Unloved. And no one to save him.

Turmoil swiftly pulls his fingers out, making sure to remove the mesh walls lining the inside of Drifts valve out with him. “ Mmmm…much better, “ Turmoil then smashes Drifts torn walls over the his face with a pleased snort. “I’m thirsty Deadlock, I think I shall have a taste. Of you. Ah, you fear that don’t you? The Syphoners. Happened a lot, didn’t it? How lovely! I am curious, how does it work? Like this?” Turmoil rips off Drifts forearm tire and viciously yanks out an energon line along with several wires and cables. Another delectable scream.

“NO! NO! NO! PLEASE!!” Drift thrashes his helm back and forth, mewling and begging for death. His struggles further excite Turmoil as he sucks on the free energon line, devouring Drifts living energon. The white and red mech purges his tanks and sobs till struggling, still fighting, his frame making disgusting, crunching and slurping sounds as it rails against the poles still pinning him to the floor.

“Very delicious, Deadlock. Oh so sweet! We will be doing this more, I can assure you! But for now…enjoy!!” Turmoil jams the booster into Drifts brain, laughing joyfully. “You are very welcome!”

The last thing Drift hears before he slips in the abyss are his tortured, pitiful agonizing screams of terror, shame and helplessness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

LOST LIGHT SHUTTLE  
WING AND PERCEPTOR  
PRESENT

Perceptor slowly opens his optics into the peaceful quiet of the small habitation suite. The warm frame in his arms and the gentle hum of the engines a sirens call trying to lull him back to recharge. Wing shifts and stretches as he drowsily surfaces from his own blissful recharge. The jet lazily trails his fingers over Perceptor’s chest plate and smiles up at him.

“Hello, handsome. Recharge well?” 

Perceptor smiles down at the beautiful knight and kisses his forehelm. “I most assuredly did. That was…wonderful. Truly, it was… thank you, Wing.”

The white jet chuckles softly, “There is no need to thank me, Perceptor. I enjoyed myself as well. I feel…connected…somehow to Drift through you. And you, well….you have VERY knowledgeable hands.” Wing playfully teases and purrs.

“Do I?” The sniper laughs a pleased laugh and relaxes, pulling Wing closer and resting his chin on the jets helm. “Tell me about Drift…please?”

“You do,” Wing nuzzles under the snipers chin. “Drift…let’s see…he was angry. He had a scowl permanently etched on his face,” the jet smiles fondly and continues, his smile fading the more he reflects, “He was… wild; feral, even. He hated himself and everything…everyone. He did not see his own worth. Drift thought he did not deserve to be happy. He felt he did not deserve what Crystal City had to offer. He struggled with self-control; trying so hard to behave and listen to me. Drift was an enigma. He never once hurt me. Never took without asking. He thought it was wrong to enjoy things…even something as simple as a candy. He was so afraid; afraid to be who he truly was; afraid to let go; afraid of almost anything beautiful…as if he would shatter it just by looking. What kind of monster would create that in another? He was a tortured soul. His past was horrible, Perceptor. It broke my spark to hear of it. I cannot imagine what it was like to be left behind, broken and forgotten; rotting in the gutters of Cybertron…the things he had to do to survive…oh Perceptor. He was beaten into submission and a false, corrupted way of thinking. Yet, through it all, his spark was in the right place. He carried himself with honor and dignity. He was gentle. Even in the berth. I saw into his spark. Drift is beautiful, a rare gift to this world; one to be treasured, loved, and protected; one to be cherished and held dear to one’s spark.” 

Perceptor cannot help the tears that build and drip from his optics. His EMF brushes against Wings in combined misery for their Drift. Perceptor softly brushes away a few of Wings tears and tilts the jets chin so that they are both gazing sadly into one another’s dim optics. Several moments pass as they each say all they need to between their optics. The sniper opens his mouth trying to form words that die in his vocalizer; Wing places a finger over Perceptor’s lips, hushing him. 

“I know.” The jet whispers and pulls the scientist-turned-sniper into a tight embrace.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

TURMOIL’S SHIP  
THE BRIG  
PRESENT

 

Drift groans weakly and slowly opens his optics. For a brief moment, the swordsmech thinks he’s back in the gutters; processor still fuzzy from the boosters; frame feeling like slag, valve burning and hurting badly; all too familiar feelings. He shivers as reality sets in. Drift has never, ever wished he was back in the gutters until now. He could hide there; try and heal knowing that he could escape, that this would end. But here, here there is no end. No help. No one to save him. No Gasket to run back to. The red and white mech lolls his helm over to the side and stares forlornly at his arm: barbed poles jutting out from the joints, sparks jumping out occasionally and the, oh frag is that all HIS energon, rather large pool of energon all around him. He snorts. Huh…it’s bad…he should care. He really, REALLY should, a heavy, shaky vent and yeah, great... really should care…but he doesn’t. He’ll be dead soon and it’ll all be over. There’s not much more Turmoil can to do to him anyway, right? If only…oh if only, he muses. But that’s not good, right? The what ifs? Who cares…what if he stayed with Wing? What if Wing hadn’t have died? What if he told Perceptor how he felt? He should have. Right from day one, he should have. Percy wouldn’t betray him. He wouldn’t have let him go by himself. But then, his sniper would be in this position too and that would be unacceptable. Just one more poor fool Drift would have led to the slaughter. What if Gasket hadn’t have died? Oh Gasket….tears fall from his optics as he softly sobs. 

“Crying already, Deadlock? But we haven’t even started yet!” Turmoil snickers. “You are so very pathetic, so utterly pathetic,” the giant mech proudly struts around his work as if contemplating a piece of art. “Hmmm….I’m not fond of the red,” In one fell swoop, Turmoil rips off both of Drifts red spaulders simultaneously. Drift howls in utter agony, his optics white, wild and wide with new found pain. He screams again as he arches his back in agony, which drives him up the poles. Turmoils' laughter drowns out the swordsmechs pitiful bellows. “Much better; shall I go for the ones gracing your luscious thighs now?”

“F-Fr…ag…y-you!” Drift sobs brokenly.

“Such a nasty little brat, “With that, Turmoil yanks off the red thigh armor on Drifts right thigh first eliciting another beautiful howl of pure, unbridled torment. A low, guttural moan of lust escapes the black mechs vocalizer. “Oh Deadlock…mmm mmm…” Turmoil shudders with desire, “I may take you yet again.” Before he even finishes his sentence, Turmoil yanks off the left one. 

Drift bows his back again, in blinding agony. He sobs in anguish; broken and bleeding. Oh does he hurt. So very badly. The swordsmech convulses and shakes; his intakes wheeze and gurgle; his vents rattle and sputter; energon froths at the edges of his mouth and trickles steadily out of his vents, nose and every joint. The poor, decimated, and banished grounder finally, mercifully slips unconscious.  
Turmoil is no fool and he knows Primus damn well if he continues now, his pet will surely die; thus ending his fun. “Slaggit all, Deadlock! You are so WEAK! PATHETIC! ARGH!” Turmoil gives the command for the poles to extend and lock into the ceiling, effectively trapping Drift further and exits. He looks back, seething with barely contained rage, “In a few cycles, Deadlock….just you wait,” before he retreats to his quarters to burn off his charge. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

THE LOST LIGHT  
RODIMUS’ OFFICE  
PRESENT

Blanketed in darkness, deep within his own mind, Rodimus sits at his desk, carving nothing in particular into it. The solace he seeks is currently being interrupted by a loud banging on his door, which he no longer has the luxury of ignoring, since it has long since stolen him from his wallowing. 

“Come in already! Jeez! Can’t a captain get any peace and quiet!?”

“On board this ship, I think not,” Rungs quaint attempt at humor falling flat, on the usually good humored Captain. He smiles regardless and takes a seat, gently sliding a data pad across the desk to Rodimus. 

“What’s this?” Rodimus looks up from the data pad to meet Rungs gaze.

“A petition.” Rung holds the captains gaze as he answers.

“A petition?” Rodimus, parrots questioningly, arching an optic ridge. “For…?”  
Rung gestures for Rodimus to read said petition with an upturned palm.

“Okaaaaay….’We the undersigned….blah blah blah….Drift…back’?! What?! Really?! Are you kidding me? This is…” Rodimus scrolls through the data pad as he checks over the names. “…almost three-quarters of the crew!” 

Rung straightens in his seat and smoothly folds his hands over his crossed legs. “Yes, well, morale has been low since you exiled him. Before you ask, it was Swerve who started it. He approached me with the idea and I gave him my support. I happen to think an inquiry should be made into the events surrounding Overlord and I too feel that Drift should not have been banished. He was your friend, Rodimus and I feel-“

Rodimus curtly interrupts, “First off its CAPTAIN and who my friends WERE are none of YOUR business AND his banishment is not up for discussion! It’s bad enough that strange jet and my best scientist went after him! And now all of you want us to take MY ship to search for a TRAITOR! Get out, Rung! OUT!”

Rung sighs heavily and graciously stands up. He heads to the door pausing, one hand on the frame, and looks back at Rodimus. “I can see that you are hurt, Captain and I am very much aware that the decision to exile Drift was very difficult. Do not let your hurt and anger cloud your judgment. You have many whom care very much about you. Don’t forget that.” With a kind smile, Rung leaves, shutting the door behind him. 

Once Rung leaves, Rodimus slams his fist very hard into his desk, leaving a huge dent. “URGH!”

ooOOOOoo

LOST LIGHT  
RODIMUS’ OFFICE  
A FEW HOURS LATER

Rodimus has his arms stretched out and folded over top his desk. His chin rests on his crossed wrists, mulling over the petition and Rungs words when there is another knock at his door. Why can’t they just ring the chime? Oh…cos he broke it…with a heavy sigh he yells at whoever it is to enter. 

“Well you are the very last mech I expected to see…” the captain sits up a tiny smile blooming across his face at his unexpected guest.  
Bob bounces in chirping happily. He bounds over to Rodimus and puts his little front claws up on his legs, wiggling his aft. “Well hello there, Bob!” Rodimus scratches between the insecticons antennas and leans back. “What’s up, Sunny?”

“I really wish you wouldn’t call me that, Roddy,” The reprimand is only half-sparked as Sunstreaker smiles that beautiful smile of his. “I think you know what’s up. Look, it’s not my place to butt in, BUT,” Sunstreaker walks around Rodimus’ desk so that he is in front of the captain, and leans his aft on the desk. The gorgeous yellow mech lovingly strokes Rodimus’ cheek with a finger as he continues to speak. “But when you don’t come and recharge with me, among other things, I worry. You’ve been this way ever since you banished Drift.” Bob, no longer getting any more yummy pets, gets down and curls up at his master’s pedes, with a pouty little chuff. 

“You too, huh? Oh and I saw your signature on the petition, too.” The red mech pouts and crosses his arms across his chest.

“Roddy…it’s not like that…and you know it.” Sunstreaker moves from leaning on the desk to straddling his lover and wrapping his arms around his neck. He leans his forehelm on Rodimus’ and cups the former Primes face, black thumbs gently caressing the smooth planes of his face. “Roddy, what I did was so much worse than Drift…you of all people know that. Everyone turned on Drift so quickly…I know what that’s like. You didn’t exile me…you let me on board..”

“That is so way way WAY different, Sunny…” Rodimus wraps his arms around Sunstreaker and rubs his back, the beautiful yellow Lambo just what he needed.

“You are right…it was WORSE. I know you feel betrayed…but imagine how Drift feels. He wasn’t even given a chance…ya kinda just, well, cast him out. You ripped off his Autobrand, love. I still have mine and well, I don’t know…it just don’t seem right.” Sunstreaker tips Rodimus’ chin up and loving kisses his lovers pout away. After a few moments, Sunstreaker pulls away. He smiles and kisses the captains forehelm, gently getting off his lap. “All I’m saying is think about it. Please. For me. C’mon , Bob…let’s go” With that Sunstreaker walks to the door, stopping as Rodimus calls out for him. “Yes, love?”

“I’ll be home tonight, kay?” Rodimus smiles softly.

Sunstreaker smiles a very rare smile. “I’m counting on it, Cap”. Sunstreaker leaves with Bob trailing after him like the end of a comet.

“Well frag and fragging frag frag frag frag…..Really need ya Magnus….really need ya…” Rodimus speaks into the empty office.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

LOST LIGHT  
OBSERVATION DECK  
PRESENT

Dai Atlas rests his helm against his long time spark mate and friend, Axe. They sit together on the bench in the observation deck veiled in the darkness. Dai Atlas gives a long vent and pulls Axe closer.

“I know, Dai. Our Little One and Winglet will be alright though. I promise you,” Axe’s voice is a hushed whisper as he nuzzles his mate. “I too am worried. Very much so, in fact, but we cannot lose hope.”

“You are right, my love. I just…I fear for Drift; our Little One, I do like the sound of that,” Dai smiles softly, returning the nuzzle. “He is little indeed, despite the rather large size of his scowl. Oh, Axe! If only I had warmed to him faster, like you. Even after our Winglets ‘death’, I didn’t trust him enough to tell him that Redline could and did fix Wing…maybe if I had he would have stayed…Drift certainly would have seen through Star Sabers betrayal. He could have been happy with our Winglet. The two of them would have finally been able to explore their feelings for one another, aside from just ‘facing. Wing saved him and I failed him. If he doesn’t make it…I…” Dai’s intakes hitch and choke off, tears forming in his ruby optics.

The purple and black triple-changer pulls his beloved into his arms and rubs his back. “Oh, Dai, no…please don’t do this to yourself. Nothing good has ever come from playing ‘what if’… you know that. Drift very well may have seen through Star Sabers betrayal, but in the end? Who knows? I regret not telling Drift about Wing as well, but what is done is done…”

The leader of The Circle of Light nuzzles into Axe before pulling away and holding his shoulders as he speaks. “It’s not good enough, Axe…did you hear how desperately Drift misses Wing? I have spoken to many on board this ship…it is spark wrenching…spark wrenching! Our Little One blames himself for Wings ‘death’! Oh Axe! What’s worse is learning of his past…if he comes back to us, I will appoint myself his guardian! Our Winglet was right about him from the beginning. How could I have been so blind?”

“Dai…my beloved…” Axe pulls him into another embrace and coos softly; gently rubbing his back. “You listen to me, Dai Atlas, and you listen well. Winglet and Perceptor will bring him back-alive. We cannot change his past, but we can help him to heal and make his future bright. Drift will be our charge, along with Wing and we will protect them as they rediscover one another and create a foundation from which to build upon. I also have a feeling that that handsome scientist will be a part of Drift and Wing as well; for our Little One needs and deserves all the love in the world.”

Dai Atlas leans into Axe and smiles lovingly up at his spark mate. “That he does, love, that he does.” The two continue to sit in comfortable silence gazing out into the plague of stars. After a time, their quiet reflection is whisked away by the sound of the deck doors opening in a soft swoosh. A tall, slender mech bounces in, the spoilers on his back casting a light shadow in the poorly lit observation deck.

Rodimus had too many distractions in his office. First it was Rung with that damned petition and his speech on morale. Then Fort Max with his daily reports and finally, the yellow mech with his perfect finish and his giddy insecticon. Of course the last barrage, more of a delight and an optic opener, than anything else. 

Now Rodimus stands in the empty and dark observation deck, empty as far as he could tell anyway, his shoulders slumped noting how the darkened room reminds him about how he feels; so alone and dark inside. As he looks out the viewport, the distant stars emphasize his emotions, each star beckoning like little beacons of hope, just out of his grasp. He feels movement behind him, startling him, as he didn't hear the door open at all. 

"I see you came here for answers as well.” Rodimus recognized the voice instantly. The deep tone was that of Dai Atlas. 

"I didn't realize you were here.” Roddy shot a glance over his shoulder to the leader of the famed Knights of Cybertron. 

Dai Atlas thought for a moment and then placed his arms behind his back. "I did not trust Drift, when I first met him-"

"What he did was inexcusable. He jeopardized everyone's lives.” Roddy shakes his helm as he interrupts Dai Atlas.

"Your ship is still in one piece; your crew is still functional. Nothing the young warrior did hurt much,” Dai thought his next words carefully, “Except to wound your pride. But that is not the fault of Drift...”

The anger rises fast in Roddy and he tries his hardest to not spin around and punch Dai Atlas. 

"I humiliated him and was untrustful until it was nearly too late. Do not make the same mistake.” Dai Atlas turns away from the captain. 

Axe stands up quietly as Dai approaches and follows his leader and spark mate out the door. 

Now Rodimus stands quiet and alone. "Magnus, you sure picked a hell of a time to leave us. We need you more than ever.... I need you..." Roddy’s voice a mere whisper into the darkness. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

TURMOILS SHIP  
BRIG  
PRESENT

 

A soft scraping sound lures Drift from the comforting darkness enveloping him. His optics open and flicker, glowing like pale little twin moons. The swordsmech draws in a sharp intake, hissing in pain. A series of agonizing tremors devastate his frame as he desperately tries to locate the sound.

“So very nice of you to join me, Deadlock. Been a long time,” That voice…he knows that voice. Drift tries to focus on it; to make sense of it…to place it. Oh no…

Drift must have made a face to mirror his thoughts, because he hears a satisfied chortle. “Oh yes, it’s me…your old friend Lockdown, come to visit,” The bounty hunter stops sharpening his claw and walks around Drift slowly, savoring every inch of his decimated frame. To add to the white mechs misery he gives each bar a yank as he walks around. By the time he has finished his stroll, Drift is a heaving, shaking, and leaking puddle of tormented mech. “Awe, such misery…poor Deadlock...” he mocks.

“I-It’s…D-Driffffft…” Every word is agony. Drift shivers and glares up at Lockdown. “W-What…uhn…urgh…w-want…?”

“Why I want to take part in your misery, Deadlock,” An acidic smile curls on the bounty hunters lips. “I’m curious to know, Deadlock, how I measure up to that pretty white jet of yours.” A vicious sneer that ignites all of Drifts rage snakes it way on Lockdowns face. 

“IT’S D-DRIFT! And W-Wing is of no concern…,” Drifts voice turns to static as another violent tremor racks his frame, speaking taking too much out of him “…t-to you…”

Lockdown ignores Drift, pleased that he is getting the reaction he wants and taunts him further. “Oh but it IS, Deadlock. See, a pretty mech like that, well, he doesn’t know how Decepticons like it, does he? Did he take your valve, Deadlock? I mean, a pretty buymech and submissive little rat like you….whore, like you, I bet your Knight had all kinds a fun! Was it fun, to have an aristocrat want you? But he didn’t, did he, Deadlock? No one wants you. Except like this,” Lockdown spreads his arms out indicating Drifts spread eagle position on the poles, from where he stands between Drifts horrifically spread legs, “flat on your back and spread wide open. Oh look! Your valve, well, what’s left of it, is already wet…no, wait, that’s energon…but it’ll do!” The bounty hunter stands in front of Drift and retracts his panel, his fully pressurized spike jutting out. Lockdown begins to stroke his spike, already immensely aroused from his taunting of Drift. “Dirty little buymech…dirty little Syk helm….uhn….so dirty…I’m going take my time with you, just like I wanted to all those years ago…and there ain’t a fragging thing you or anyone can do about it.”

Drift lies there in unbelievable agony watching Lockdown, choking down his fear of being raped again. He tries not to show Lockdown how much the hunter’s words bother him, but Drift feels the hot, shameful, traitorous tears slide down his cheeks anyway. His time with Wing was sacred. Hearing it desecrated from Lockdowns vile mouth is enough to break him. He never got the chance to explore anything more with Wing…never got the chance to tell the white jet how much he loves him. Drift knows he can’t take much more and hears a sob break from his vocalizer as he stares up at Lockdown, trying to steel himself for one more round. Maybe Primus will be merciful and kill him this time. Then he can finally be with Wing and free of pain. Free of torment and anguish. No longer will Drift have to fight. He can finally, finally be at peace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

LOST LIGHT SHUTTLE  
WING AND PERCEPTOR  
PRESENT

 

“Wing! We found him,” exclaims Perceptor, as he stands up and smiles at his companion. “It won’t be long now!” 

Wing jumps up from his chair, sheathing his new and freshly sharpened Great Sword behind his back. He clasps Perceptor on his shoulders and smiles. “Thank Primus! Thank YOU, Perceptor,” the knights’ spark clenches tight; afraid of what they will find when they finally get to his beloved Drift. Wings golden optics glide to the window and the large battle cruiser off in the distance before settling once again on Perceptor. “But how will we get to him without being detected, my friend?” Wing slides his optics back over to the window and watches a shuttle on its return to Turmoil’s ship.

A sly grin forms on the snipers face before he turns back to the console, rapidly inputting data. “Simple, I will reverse the polarity of our deflector shield which will hide our energy signature, which in turn will then allow us to cruise in that returning shuttles,” Perceptor tips his chin in the direction of the returning shuttle, “energy wake allowing us to dock…and from there…” the sniper turns and gazes up at the white jet, a firm, determined expression on his face, “…from there we go get our Drift.” Perceptor gives a tiny, sad smile acknowledging the short nod from Wing and turns back to the console, while the jet paces back and forth, far too worked up to sit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

TURMOILS SHIP  
THE BRIG  
PRESENT

 

“Awe, Deadlock, tears? You really have gone soft-sparked! And to think I haven’t even touched you…yet,” Lockdown digs his claw into Drifts’ side and drags it across to the small hole in the swordsmech stomach from where Turmoil had, weeks ago, stabbed him. Once the hunter has a hold of Drift he yanks up painfully slowly, sliding Drifts brutalized frame up the poles until he is level with Lockdowns waist.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

LOST LIGHT SHUTTLE  
DOCKED WITH TURMOILS SHIP  
WING AND PERCEPTOR

 

“Wing, you can stop the frantic pacing now; we are docked.” Perceptor loads his hand guns and checks his sniper rifle. “Should anything happen…t-to me, you have my blessing to be with Drift. I know you will take care of him, Wing. Tell him I love him.” 

The white knight checks that his swords are clear in their scabbards before cupping Perceptor’s face with his hands. Wing smiles softly, albeit a little sad. “The same can be said for me, Perceptor, but that will not happen. Drift will be alright and we will bring him home. Have faith.” With that Wing embraces the larger mech, pressing a soft, loving kiss to his lips. “Let’s go.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

TURMOILS SHIP  
THE BRIG

 

“It’s…D-Dri….ffffft….ARGH!!! URGH! …fr-fraaaAAAAHHH,” Drift screams in agonizing torment as his frame is moved up the poles. He shakes and sobs, unable to control himself. The sound he makes as his frame is horribly sluiced up the poles is tank churning and grotesque. Warnings frantically pop in his HUD before the white mechs visual feed goes bright white, and then fades to black. He distantly feels Lockdown slam into his broken valve, the force of which drags a raw, broken cry from his vocalizer. Drifts helm hangs back, his fingers twitching, clawing at nothing as they try to form fists. He knows he cannot take much more; he wants to give up. The pain…it’s too much…too much…he hears himself howl in miserable torment and agony. Primus he sounds so pathetic and broken. Just kill me, please, he silently pleads. Let it all be over. No one wants him anyway. Let it be done already. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

LOST LIGHT SHUTTLE AIRLOCK  
TURMOIL’S SHIP  
LOWER LEVEL  
WING AND PERCEPTOR

 

The two mechs exit the shuttle, prepared for battle, stepping out into the darkness of the shuttle bay, solely lit by a flickering red designation sign. Two lone sentries patrol the shuttle bay, which Perceptor quickly and silently dispatches. Knight and sniper stealthy make their way through the corridors. As they round a corner, approaching a lift to the brig, Perceptor spots three more sentries.

The sniper uses his monocle, targeting the one in the middle and comms Wing. ::I’ll take the one in the center, you dispatch the remaining two.::

Wing smirks ::With pleasure. Ready?:: and prepares to charge the sentries.

Perceptor gives a nod and stabilizes his rifle. At the nod Wing is off, blades in hand, arms level at sides. Before the guards become aware of the white blur headed their way, Perceptor drops the one in the center as Wing spins and slices open each of the two’s throats before stabbing them in the spark to assure the job is done. 

The sniper swings his rifle around attaching it to his back, standing up all in one fluid motion as Wing stands and turns to face him. Knight and sniper nod and turn, stepping into the lift, the doors swooshing shut before the lift descends.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

THE BRIG  
TURMOILS SHIP

 

Lockdown laughs loud and long, proud at what he’s doing; what he’s drawn from Drift. “Is this how Wing did it, Drift? Huh? Is it?” The hunter mercilessly pounds into Drift, shoving his frame back and forth on the poles, coming Primus damned close to severing the swordsmechs’ limbs. “Is this how that pretty, pathetic knight of yours did it? Just. Like. This.” Lockdown emphasizes every word with a hard thrust. “Is it!? ANSWER ME YOU PATHETIC WHORE!!”

Drift sobs uncontrollably in terrible agony, begging for it to stop, his pitiful, agonized cries tearing the very fabric of the air to pieces.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

THE BRIG  
TURMOILS SHIP  
JUST OUTSIDE DRIFTS CELL

 

The lift doors hiss open and Drifts tormented screams and cries echo off the walls, slicing through both Perceptor’s and Wing’s spark. The two turn to each other and rush out of the lift prepared for a battle, only to find the area empty, exchanging a confused look and shrug with one another. 

Wing frantically tries to pry open the door to get to Drift. “We NEED to get in there, Perceptor! Now! He’s hurt!”

Perceptor immediately sets to attempting to override the door locks. “I am well aware of that, Wing. I am trying as hard as I can! Do you not think it wounds my spark as well to hear him?” The red mechs vocalizer shorts out as he speaks, his worry for Drift heavy in his EMF.

The jet growls and sheaths his short swords, “Ugh! We don’t have time for this!! That’s it!” In one graceful, deadly move Wing draws his Great Sword and stabs the lock. The doors open revealing the horrid sight before both their optics. Perceptor can only watch in horror as everything evolves in slow motion.

Lockdown slams mercilessly into Drift, whose back is arched, helm hanging, finials dipped toward the floor, energon leaking out from every part of his frame, terrible sobs breaking from his vocalizer, impaled on poles, halfway off the ground. “WHORE, I asked you a question! Is this how Wing did it?!”

Rage surges through the white knight, his golden optics darkening and armor clamping down tight as he stealthily approaches Lockdown from behind. “No. That’s not how I ‘did it’,” Wing snarls as he slams his Great Sword through Lockdowns chest. Lockdown releases his hold on Drift, optics going wide with disbelief as he feels his spark gutter out and burst, the Great Sword jutting through his chest. Wing yanks the Great Sword out of Lockdown and then carefully pries the hunter out of Drift, tossing him aside. 

Unfortunately for Drift, this causes the swordsmech to slide down the poles, hitting the ground hard. The white grounder gasps and hisses in pain. 

“Drift! Oh Drift! I-I’m sorry!” Wing gasps in horror as he realizes what he inadvertently did when he removed Lockdown from Drift.

“W-Wing?” Drift barely manages to croak out in disbelief. “I…urgh…f-finally..uhn…d-dead…urgh….” Drifts vocalizer hisses in static as he tries to speak, his frame sagging in agonizing relief.

“Shhhh, beloved, you are not dead…we are here to save you…Perceptor and I,” The white jet softly strokes Drifts face. “It will be alright, my love. I promise,” Wing coos as he purposely avoids looking at Drifts mangled frame.

Perceptor stands and watches the exchange between the two, his spark breaking as he processes Drifts condition. “Primus…Drift…” The sniper finally snaps to attention and rushes over.

Drift lolls his helm over to Perceptor as he hears the snipers voice. “…Ceptor…uhn…n-need…t-t-tell…y-you….urgh…” Drift arches his back in agony and cries out.

“Oh Drift…there will be time enough for that later…I-I need to get you out of this…time is short…” Perceptor softly strokes Drifts energon and tear stained cheek as he looks around at the poles protruding from Drifts joints that run to the ceiling.

“Y-You cuh-can’t…T-T-Tuh-Turmoil….” Drift shivers violently as he tries to speak, “…cuh-c-controls it…g-guh-go…p-puh-please…buh…buh-both of you,” tears streaming from his optics, “a-already d-duh-dead….g-guh go….”

“Never, love…I will never leave you again!” Wing vehemently promises. “You are coming with us.”

“I…I am afraid that I will have to saw through the poles so that we can take you off of them.” Perceptor’s voice is apologetic, for he knows full well how much this will hurt Drift.

“N-uh-no…P-Please…n-no…” Drift starts to panic, “cuh-c-can’t t-take…urgh…uhn…”

Tears slide down Wings face as he listens to Drifts spark breaking pleas. “He has to, my love. It will be alright. Here, bite down on this,” Wing unsubs a cloth and places it in Drifts mouth. The jet cradles Drifts helm in his lap and loving strokes his forehelm and finials. Wing looks to Perceptor and nods as Drift leans into the loving rubs from Wing and bites down on the cloth.

Perceptor vents heavily and pulls out his saw. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

LOST LIGHT  
BRIDGE  
PRESENT

“Okay! Listen up! Dai Atlas, Axe, Trailbreaker you’re with me. We board, get Drift, Perceptor and Wing and get the frag out! Trailbreaker you cover our escape with your shield. The rest of you protect the ship. This is a rescue mission, so let’s keep it clean and quick. Till all are one!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I am starting this chapter with the ending of last chapter and that the "first chapter" was super long, but that was because I did not know how easy it would be to add chapters on this site. Now I know. And knowing is half the battle. It's super late...I'm trying to proofread..there's probably mistakes, but the hell with it..I couldn't sleep until I got this up...so here you are... :D cheers.

LOST LIGHT  
BRIDGE  
PRESENT

“Okay! Listen up! Dai Atlas, Axe, Trailbreaker you’re with me. We board, get Drift, Perceptor and Wing and get the frag out! Trailbreaker you cover our escape with your shield. The rest of you protect the ship. This is a rescue mission, so let’s keep it clean and quick. Till all are one!”

Trailbreaker perks up hearing his name and smiles proudly. Unfortunately that pride turns to resentment upon hearing the rest of Rodimus’ speech. “Always the shield…never, ‘Hey, Breaker, we need you cos you kick major aft’ always, always the fragging shield! Like that’s all I’m good for…” Trailbreaker mutters to himself as he heads off to Swerves to kill off time until they board.

About time Cyclonus thinks to himself. He spots Rodimus walking off and decides to share his opinion with the illustrious captain. 

As Rodimus walks off, heading toward the bridge, lost in thought once again, he is interrupted by a very smug looking Cyclonus whose hand is on his arm.

“Wise decision you made, Captain, as it appears as we are about to catch up to our rescue shuttle.” Cyclonus’ grip tightens just a little as he addresses his captain.

“Excuse me?” Rodimus looks from Cyclonus’ hand on his arm to the dour expression on the purple jets’ face.

“While you were wallowing in guilt and self-pity, someone had the foresight to follow Perceptor and Wing.” Cyclonus releases Rodimus’ arm and walks away.

“Whatever…was not…” Rodimus watches Cyclonus leave and mutters, continuing his journey back to the bridge. 

The rest of the crew shuffles off either to Swerves, for liquid courage, to their respective habitation suites or to the duties they were just given. Most of them however, regardless of duty, end up at Swerves.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SWERVES BAR  
A FEW MINUTES LATER

“I told ya my petition would work, Skids! Oh man oh man this is gonna be epic! Ya think I should give Drift free drinks for life? Huh? Well maybe not for LIFE, but I do like Drift…Did I ever tell ya we were gonna be roommates?”

“How about giving ME free drinks for life, buddy?” Skids teases from over the rim of his drink.

While Skids and Swerve continue their philosophical conversation on the requirements of free drinks, Whirl harasses Brainstorm at a nearby table.

“Hey! Brainy! You’ve been REAL nervous ever since pointy helm got the boot…why is that? Not to mention you and doom and gloom lover mech over there have been awfully tight….what’dya do? Oh! Can you imagine how itchy our resident snipers’ trigger finger is gonna be when he finds out you had something do with it all….I could almost squeal with joy!” The former Wrecker is distinctly overjoyed at the look of horror Brainstorm pulls off, through face mask and visor.

“I-I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, Whirl…” The weapons creator is decidedly uncomfortable and on the verge of running when he spots Rung coming to his rescue, giving off a huge vent of relief as the psychologist approaches.

“Whirl…” Rung places a hand gently on Whirls shoulder his intonation rising as he speaks. “Let’s you and I have a chat, shall we?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THE MEDIBAY

“There. That’s good.” First Aid surveys the work he did preparing the isolation room for Drift, as per Ratchets orders. Ratchet. First Aid sighs heavily. His mentor hasn’t been the same since Drift left. How he’s even more short and agitated is a mystery to First Aid. And the level of anger he displayed earlier in the week…even more unlike him. Well, hopefully all will be well when Drift gets back. Although, his injuries will probably be very bad, if not life threatening and if the condition of Drifts shuttle is anything to go by…the young apprentice shakes his helm and pushes those thoughts from his processor. Positive energy, isn’t that what Drift would say? First Aid smiles to himself as he walks over to Ratchet. “Hey Ratch, Drifts’ room is all ready, just as you asked….Ratchet? Are you alright?” First Aid carefully approaches the tense CMO. 

Ratchet distantly hears First Aid, his thoughts on Drift, his shoulders sagging, and his grip on the wrench tightening. Without a word he hurls the wrench at the wall next to the Cryogenic Regeneration tank that currently is housing a very badly wounded Hoist. 

First Aid jumps as Ratchet throws the wrench, peering curiously over Ratchets’ shoulder at the offending wrench, now embedded into the wall. “Uh, Ratchet?”

“What?” The CMO snaps. “Never seen me hurl a wrench before?”

First Aids expression softens under his mask and visor as he takes in Ratchet. “He will be alright Ratchet, I know-“

Ratchet cuts his apprentice off with heaving intakes and optics filled with worry. “How do you know that? You don’t know that! And even if he’s not…LOOK!” Ratchet points to the CR tank. “That’s the only one we got and it’s full! Drift will be suffering. Again! And I know that slagging little wretch will refuse any and all sedatives, forced stasis and pain inhibitors we have for fear of becoming addicted all over again! How am I supposed to HELP him? Huh? You tell me that? That sword swinging idiot is constantly getting hurt! How the frag am I supposed to keep him alive, Aid, if he keeps…keeps…” Ratchets’ intakes hitch and hiccup as vocalizer cuts out.

“Oh Ratchet…” First Aid embraces his mentor and nuzzles him, filling his EMF with peace, comfort, hope and love. “We will fix him. I promise.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THE BRIDGE

 

Dai Atlas, accompanied by Axe enters the bridge and find Rodimus once again staring out a view port. Axe smiles at Dai Atlas and joins Rodimus on the deck patting him on his back, “That was a very inspiring address to your crew, lad.”

Rodimus tips forward a little bit from the “pat” the much larger mech gave him and smiles sheepishly. “Yeah, well…Drift wrote better speeches…”

Dai Atlas smiles solemnly at Rodimus. “And a very wise change of course,” the leader of the knights adds. “What was it that made you change your mind, if I may ask?”

Rodimus looks at Dai Atlas for a long moment, trying to put words to the myriad of emotions running through his processor. He answers with a shrug, “I don’t know…I guess a bunch of things, really; most of all though, I can’t get the look Drift had on his face when I told him his punishment, out of my helm,” Dai Atlas and Axe both wait for him to elaborate, which he wasn’t planning on doing, but does anyway. “The light in his optics went out…it was as if all the hope he ever had in anything just shattered right then and there. The worst was that he didn’t try to make an excuse or defend himself. He just accepted it…like he was deserving of it, which at the time I thought he was, but in truth he deserved better. Better of me; better of all of us. We all just gave up on him. He would never give up on us. So, uh, yeah…that answer your question?” Rodimus turns back to stare out the view port, hoping that the knot in his gut will go away very soon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this while bundled up freezing lol...I have spent the past few hours re-reading and revising and I think I am happy at the results...little bit of a cliffhanger at least I hope...:P Enjoy! Oh and thanks sooooo very much for the kudos and the bookmark! I am a happy soul!

TURMOILS SHIP  
DRIFTS CELL  
WING, PERCEPTOR AND DRIFT

 

Perceptor looks over Drift once again, his spark aching for his love. He looks helplessly up at Wing and then to Drift, whose face is a tortured mask of unimaginable pain. The scientist gently rubs the swordsmechs chin with his thumb, his voice a delicate whisper. “Drift, listen to me. This is going to hurt, okay; I will be as quick and as painless as I can, alright? I will cut from the bottom and then the top. I will then take the pole out of your arm. Wing will dress your wounds. I am going to start with your left arm and I know it will be very hard, but you must be still, alright?”

Drift weakly nods his helm, optics white and feral as they dart between Perceptor and Wing. Wing. Drift still can’t believe he is alive. This has gotta be a dream…a hallucination.

Wing lovingly smooth’s Drifts forehelm and caresses the poor mechs finials. “It will be alright, beloved. Perceptor will get you out and I will be right here.” Wings EMF is filled with comfort and love as it brushes with Drifts terrified and agonized field while he coos softly. 

“Very well, I will start now.” Perceptor gives Drift a reassuring smile and begins to painstakingly saw into the pole underneath Drifts left shoulder.

A spark-wrenching whimper escapes Drifts vocalizer as tears slide from his optics, his frame trembling. He tries to stay still, but his frame won’t listen; the pain just too intense. 

“Love, look up at me. Look into my optics, Drift. Focus on me, beloved,” Wing coos continuing to rub Drifts finials.

Drift tips his helm and gazes up at Wing. Beloved? He called me beloved…he loves me…oh those golden optics, those beautiful golden optics…he loves me, Drift contemplates as he channels his focus into the jet. 

Wing smiles lovingly down at his beloved continuing with the praise that he somehow knows that Drift needs to hear. “Very good my beautiful swordsmech; I am so very proud of you, my handsome, wonderful knight.”

Perceptor cannot help but smile a little as Wings coos to and praises Drift, as it has helped to calm him down quite a bit. Whatever jealousy the sniper had is now gone, replaced by genuine love and affection for the white knight. He finishes sawing through the last bar on top and looks up at Wing. “Ready to extract the poles now, Drift, okay?” He looks at Wing. “Do you have the mesh bandages at your immediate disposal, Wing?”

Drift distantly hears Perceptor as he is too focused on Wing, who has given him some small measure of comfort.

Wings optics never leaves Drifts’ as he speaks. “Yes, Perceptor, I do. I am ready. Beloved, we are going to take out the first set of poles, okay, my brave warrior? You are doing so well, Drift. It will all be over soon.” Wing leans down and kisses Drifts forehelm, giving a small nod to the scientist to go ahead.

Perceptor intakes deep, carefully removing two of the three poles at once, following up with the extraction of the one in Drifts wrist. Energon and sparks shower out from the holes in Drifts shoulder and elbow; Drifts hand separates from his wrist, attached only by a few lone wires. 

Drift arches his back and sobs out a pitiful cry of pain as the poles are removed before that wonderful blackness claims him once again.

“Oh Perceptor! It’s breaking my spark! I can’t even look at him….I’m…I’m-“ Wing carefully sets Drifts helm down, removing the cloth form his mouth and maneuvering over to Drifts arm with the mesh bandages. 

“You are full of rage and a spark breaking dejection from seeing the only mech you have ever loved and will ever love broken, decimated, completely and utterly destroyed and in an insurmountable amount of excruciating agony?” wet azure optics stare back at wet golden ones as Perceptor moves over to Drifts right arm and begins the procedure as Wing bandages Drifts left one.

“Yes…” The knight brokenly croaks out. As Wing finishes up and waits patiently for Perceptor to finish, he looks around the small cell, spotting Drifts detritus. “We’ll have to collect his…Primus help me I can’t even say it…there are pieces of him everywhere…” 

Perceptor finishes with the right arm and moves to Drifts hips. “I know, Wing, I have been thinking of that myself, but we do not have the time to identify what is salvaga-“The red mech gasps in horror when he sees the condition of Drifts valve. 

Wing looks up from bandaging Drifts elbow, meeting the snipers horrified expression. “What?” The jet waits for a response as Perceptor looks back down and then purges his tanks. “Perceptor! Dear Primus what is it?” He quickly finishes up bandaging Drifts elbow and wrist and rushes over to the trembling scientist. “Perceptor, what’s wrong? Are you alright? What happened?” Wing rubs his back gently.

Perceptor steels himself and stands back up. He looks Wing in the optics and intakes deep. “Drift…his…v-valve…” Perceptor squeezes Wings hands and kneels down between Drifts legs. “The mesh b-bandages, p-please.” 

“Of course.” Wing hands Perceptor the bandages and looks down at Drifts exposed, ruined valve. He covers his mouth and gasps. “Oh! Oh! Oh no...Oh Drift….” The knight drops to his knees and quietly sobs. The jets sobs quickly turn to growls as rage engulfs him. “I am going to kill Turmoil. Slowly. Excruciatingly. And I will start with his spike.”

“Leave some for me,” Perceptor gently patches what he can on Drifts valve, stopping the leaking and preserving the agonized grounders dignity. The red mech gently rubs Drifts belly, running his thumb over the wound in Drifts stomach. That will have to wait until I get you off the poles, he acknowledges to himself. Perceptor begins work on the poles in Drifts hips, looking over at Drifts face every so often. Drift is broken. Hurt and so very broken. This is all Rodimus’ fault. If he was never banished, Drift would be safe back on the Lost Light, not here…not dying slowly, painfully. Whoever else was in on it is also to blame. This is so not over. Perceptor removes the first of the two poles and launches it against the wall so hard the pole is impaled. 

Wing immediately sets to sealing the wound while Perceptor removes the other pole. “I know. We WILL find out who else is responsible, Perceptor…and when we do. You and I will handle it.”

The scientist moves onto Drifts right knee and ankle, removing each pole in turn. “Indeed we will, Wing…indeed we will.” Perceptor then moves to Drifts left leg as Wing moves to his right leg. While Wing tends to Drifts right leg, Perceptor patches the wound in his abdomen as best he can.

Wing very gently moves Drifts leg closed from its spread position as Perceptor follows suit, the joints sparking and creaking sickeningly. “This is bad, Perceptor…he’s really hurt…” Wing gently pulls Drift into his arms and nuzzles his helm, cradling his beloved in his arms, his spark in pieces over what Drift has had to endure. He has suffered so much, so very much in his young life. Dear Primus what have you done to your creation? Why can he not be permitted to be happy, safe and healthy?

Perceptor kneels next to Wing and wraps his arms around the two swordsmechs. He leans his helm on Wings and nuzzles the jet. “It’s very bad, yes. He is broken. He was broken before this, thanks to Rodimus.” Perceptor’s voice turns into a growl at Rodimus’ name before softening once again. “But we will fix him, Wing. We will fix our Drift and we will never let harm come to him again, of that I can assure you.”

“….uhn….W-Wing….P-Percy….” Drift shivers and trembles, gasping and hissing in pain. He leans his helm into Wings chest and nuzzles weakly against him. 

“Beloved! We are here…” Wing kisses Drifts helm and pulls him closer.

“It’s alright, Drift.” Perceptor softly rubs Drifts back.

“…c-cold…s-so…c-c-cold….” Drifts denta chatter together as he shivers uncontrollably against Wing, “…h-hurt….”

“Oh Drift,” Wing puffs hot air out of his vents to try and warm the smaller mech.

“I know, Drift, I know. We will take care of you, but first we need to get you safe and to do that, Drift, we are going to have to move you.” Perceptor continues to rub Drifts back as he whispers to Wing. “I will carry Drift as you are the-“ Perceptor freezes and looks up at the large figure suddenly looming in the doorway, his shadow casting a foreboding darkness over the trio.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gave me some struggles, but I made it....I apologize for the shortness of it...I think I'm far too eager to write about Percy/WIng/Drift lol...oh and MTMTE #21 came out and that had my mind blown and because of that, I had to change some things, but not everything....so please don't hold it against me. As a warning, this chapter contains spoilers for the issue, so my apologies for those of you who are not caught up. It's nothing too major though...well...maybe the one...but only the one....anyhoo...I do hope you enjoy! Thanks again for reading!

LOST LIGHT  
BOARDING PARTY  
TURMOILS SHIP  
ETA 25 MINUTES

 

The excitement is palpable as the Lost Light approaches Turmoil’s ship, so much so that Rodimus can sense the collective EMF’s of his crew itching for a fight. He stands on the dais and surveys his crew, his optics settling on Whirl. “Whirl! You’re coming with. Lock and load.”

The former Wrecker looks up at his captain, his optic, if at all possible, curls into a self-satisfied smirk. “Was planning on it anyway; and yeah, I’m already loaded up!” 

“And why doesn’t that surprise me,” Rodimus mutters under his breath. Shaking his helm, he turns around and promptly runs face first into the chest of Fortress Maximus. Rodimus slowly tilts his helm back and smiles up at the warden. “Max?”

Fort Max intakes deep and stands up a little straighter, folding his arms behind his back. “I need to go on record by saying that I do not approve of this mission; going after Drift. He is a traitor. Because of him we lost several lives; lives that never should have been lost. He is untrustworthy and a liar. We should not be wasting our time, when you were right to exile him and remove his Autobrand in the first place. There are quite a lot of us who did not sign the petition and we feel VERY strongly about him remaining banished. I will not lift a finger to aid him in any way, but I will protect the mechs on board this ship. If anyone dies at the hands of Turmoil or his crew, it is on Drifts helm. That is all.” Fort Max turns on his heel and walks off.

“Well that went well,” Rodimus mutters into the restless energy Fort Max left in his wake. 

Huh. Interesting; so Max feels the same way I do. Well at least he doesn’t actually have to go save the jerk, Trailbreaker thinks to himself as he watches Fort Max depart, from his spot leaning against the wall. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER  
TURMOILS SHIP

 

“It’s too quiet! Let’s make some noise!”

Rodimus rolls his optics at Whirl, motioning for his band of would be rescuers to come closer. “I’d prefer some noise myself, Whirl, but for now let’s just focus on the task at hand, okay? We back up Percy and Wing, and get Drift back and if we can do that with as little interference as possible, all the better. I think it wise if we split up. Axe, Dai …you’re coming with me to the brig. Whirl, you and Trailbreaker stay here by the shuttle and kill anything that comes close. Then you can make all the noise you want. They must know we’re here by now anyway.”

“How come you get the big guys?” Whirl whines.

“Are you…are you pouting? How are you pouting…you don’t even have a mouth…” Rodimus questions Whirl, and then shakes his helm, his hands in front of him waving off in disbelief. “Never mind, it’s not important, don’t know why I care…”

“Yes. This is my pouty face,” Whirl deadpans. 

“But you’re…you’re not even…you don’t even have …no…not doing this…” Why does he bother, why? Because he's trying to prevent his reunion with Drift, that’s why. Poor Drift didn’t even have a clue that he was about to have his Autobrand ripped off, none to gently either, or be banished. He probably thought he was gonna end up in a cell or something. Huh, kinda ironic that that’s exactly where he is right now. Sorry, Drift. Soooo sorry. He never EVER intended for this to be the outcome…

“Rodimus, are you coming? Are you alright?” The giant purple and black triple changer finally pulls Rodimus from his thoughts.

“Yes. On all counts…just thinking of strategy, ya know?” He quickly picks up his pace and catches up to the two Knights.

“Ah, very good, lad, very good.” Axe gives him an encouraging smile and pats him on the back, giving Dai Atlas a private, affectionate smile, that Rodimus doesn’t miss, over top his helm. 

Feeling the urge to fill the sudden silence as they carefully pick their way through the corridors, Rodimus just has to give in to temptation. “Sooooooo, he’s, uh, gonna be okay, right? I mean, he can’t NOT be, right? Oh and, uh…how good are you two at keeping secrets?”

Axe and Dai Atlas exchange a look again, Axe gracefully bowing out to let Dai answer the question. “Well,” Dai Atlas begins, “our Drift is strong; he is a survivor. I have no doubt that he will be alright. A little worse for wear, yes, but alive. We are knights, young one. Nothing you share with us will ever go any further.”

“Good…and good, cos I have to get this off my chest,” Rodimus intakes deeply, “I knew about Overlord. Drift told me I was an idiot for letting him on board. It was all Prowl's idea. Chromedome and Brainstorm were in on it as well. I told Drift that I didn’t want him to take the fall. I told him that he worked too hard to gain the people’s trust and that I wouldn’t let him throw it all away. He said it had to be this way; that the lives of everyone depended on it. He made a huge sacrifice for the benefit of everyone but himself,” he intakes deeply again and continues, “I could not change his mind and I tried, believe you me. He could not be persuaded otherwise,” Rodimus pauses, this next part, the hardest part and he is now very, very much aware of just how big both knights are…how very big and how very well armed. And is it just him or are they both growing? 

“Our Little One didn’t know that you had planned on banishing him or removing his sigil, did he?” Dai Atlas tries very hard to keep the growl and rising anger out of his voice.

In complete opposition to Dai Atlas’ booming timbre, Rodimus responds with a tiny squeak, “No...”

While Dai Atlas and Rodimus continue to converse, Axe, extricates himself from the lift before he strikes Rodimus. He moves though the corridor, suddenly coming to an abrupt halt and gasping in horror. “Dear almighty Primus…no…”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooohooo! A long chapter! Well not crazy long, but longer than the other one lol...I hope you guys enjoy! And RaiFinnigan, my dear, this is for you since you said you had a rough day....I hope this make it all better for you! *big hugs*

THE BRIG  
DRIFTS CELL

 

Wing follows Perceptor’s glare to the cell door and instinctively pulls Drift closer, cradling him protectively to his chest. 

Perceptor stands up, drawing his two pistols simultaneously and aiming them at the large figure looming before them.

“…W-Wing?...uhn…” Drift coughs up energon as he forces himself to speak, “….urgh…’Ceptor?” panic assaults his field as he feels the grip Wing has on him tighten. It’s so hard to focus, to make sense of things with his sensor net overwhelmed with agony. He can’t tell what’s real. He feels a hand wiping away the energon he spit up. He sure hopes this is real. That FELT real. Oh please let it be real. The two mechs he cares about most in the world coming to rescue him. They care. Someone actually cares! About him! Drift! Drift sags against Wing. This can’t be real. No one cares about him. Not even his best friend. He really, truly didn’t know…didn’t think Rodimus was gonna exile him…or rip off his Autobrand for that matter. Oh…his Autobrand. It meant the world to him. He had tried. Tried so hard. He just wanted to do good. To be good. He failed. That’s why Rodimus did what he did. He failed his friend; his BEST friend. Drift whimpers and tries to touch his chest, only to find that he can’t move his arm and that causes a plaintive whine to escape his vocalizer. He just wants the pain to stop. Please make it stop. Drift buries his face into Wings chest and shivers. He feels that nice hand start to rubs his back. Oh that feels nice, so nice. A gentle touch. A touch meant to comfort, not hurt him. Oh please, oh please let this be real!

“Oh Little One…” As Axe takes in the scene before his optics, his spark shatters. 

“Axe?!” Wing grins up at him with relief. “Oh thank Primus you are here!”

Perceptor, relieved as well, holsters his guns. “I second that…but, what are you doing here?”

Axe cannot take his optics off of Drift as he comes to kneel before the trio. “Oh Little One…” He delicately rubs the base of Drifts finial with his thumb, his gaze traveling over the small, heavily damaged mech in his charges’ arms. Axe does not miss the exposed spark chamber or interface array. “We followed you. Rodimus finally decided to form a rescue party. We need to leave. Now. I will take, Drift. Little One, I am to going to pick you up now, alright?” Axe delicately slips his large hands underneath Drifts frame, preparing to lift him. Wing loosens his hold, adjusting so that Axe may take his beloved. 

“N-No! Please….no…” Drift mewls not wanting to be removed from Wing. He tries to grab on to Wing, which is actually more of a finger twitch and a whine.

“Shhhh, Little One…Wing will be right here. He is not going anywhere. It will be alright. You will be safe.”

“Axe is right, beloved, it will be fine. You just keep being brave and strong.” Wings voice breaks as he kisses Drifts helm. 

“It’s alright, Winglet,” Axe kisses Wings helm and gently pulls Drift into his arms, the movement causing Drift to cry out in agony and arch his back, before passing out. Axe and Wing exchange a spark-breaking look as he cradles Drift to his chest. 

Perceptor dies a little inside every time Drift makes any sound of anguish or pain. He turns away from the scene before him, far too emotional for the task at hand. Seeing Drift like this affected him far more than he thought it would. He picks up Drifts bent chest plate, doing his best to straighten it out before softly placing it back over Drifts exposed spark chamber. He smiles sadly up at Axe. “To protect him…” The scientist shrugs and lays a tender kiss upon Drifts forehelm. 

Rodimus comes bounding in, shattering the silence. “We gotta move…like now! Turmoil’s crew is attacking Whirl and—holy fraggin’ hell! Is he…please tell me he’s not…”

Perceptor glares at Rodimus as he draws his guns. “No! He is most certainly NOT dead. No thanks to you though. This is a direct result of your brash and juvenile behavior!”

“Do you think I meant for any of this to happen!? And ya know what, Percy? You really need to shut the hell up about slag you know NOTHING about!!” Rodimus screams completely livid, not to mention seeing his best friend like this is tearing him apart inside.

“ENOUGH! Now is not the time for this!” Dai Atlas booms as he collects Drifts’ tire and spaulders, putting them in his subspace, his tone demanding no argument. “The safety of Drift and getting him off this ship takes precedence over EVERYTHING else! We have limited time, so let’s go!” Dai purposely avoids looking at Drift, not ready as of yet to see just how badly he is hurt.

Wing surveys the corridor, his blades drawn, motioning for everyone to move forward on to the lift. “Dai is right, Drift is priority number one and we need to get out of here as quickly as possible.” 

Axe carries Drift onto the lift followed by Perceptor and Rodimus who can’t stop shooting daggers at each other via their optics, and then Wing and Dai Atlas. As the lift propels them upward, the sounds of battle rage, screaming closer and closer, until finally the doors open and the battle is right before them. 

Dai Atlas and Wing charge into the fray with Perceptor and Rodimus right behind them. Axe curls Drift into him more, shielding him from any and all danger before him. Axe is forced to take his time so as not to jostle Drift. The swordsmechs dented plating rattles fiercely as he is unable to stop shivering from pain and very low fuel even while unconscious. Axe follows behind as quickly as possible, following the trail of carnage left by his companions. As he hustles down the hall, Wing rounds the corner and meets up with him. 

The white jets intakes are heaving and he is stained with energon. “Not mine, Axe,” he smirks in response to the raised optic ridge on his mentor. “I cleared a path. Rodimus and Perceptor and Dai are almost to the Lost Light…I couldn’t leave you two unprotected.”

The larger mech snorts and grins, “I am hardly unprotected, Winglet, but I am very glad you came back. I can always use the help, as fighting with a mech in your arms does happen to make it a bit more challenging.”

Wings smile fades as he looks at Drifts shaking frame, “He’s not good, is he?”

“No, Winglet, he’s not. He’s getting worse. His frame is very cold and he cannot stop shivering. Every move I make…every step I take is causing him insurmountable pain. I fear his fuel level is dangerously low as well and on top of all that, he leaked through some of his bandages,” Axe carefully kneels and gently sets Drift on the decking, “I must reapply his bandages, Wing.” 

Alarm for Drift blazes furiously in Wings optics as he watches Axe tend to his…his…Conjunx Endura, that’s what.; the mech he loves more than anything else. “I will keep watch…just…just hurry, Axe.”

“Fear not, Winglet,” Axe pulses comfort and reassurance through his EMF for Wing while he removes the soaked mesh bandages and replaces them with new. “Oh Little One…hang on…hang on.”

Drift shivers and coughs, returning to consciousness once again, grateful that his world finally stopped moving. “…W-Wi…uhnnng…”

“Shhhh, Little One. It’s alright...I needed to change your bandages and Wing is right here. He is protecting you,”

“Drift?!” Wing hears his beloved and rushes to his side. “I am here, love. I am here,” Wing smiles softly, hiding his worry as he tenderly strokes Drifts cheek. “It’s alright my love…no one will ever hurt you again, my beautiful knight.”

Drift leans into Wings gentle touch, calming simply from his proximity. Drifts intakes rattle and wheeze as he tries to focus on Wing and formulate the words he wishes to speak. “…uhn…hnmm…urgh…W-Wing…”

“How pathetic… How utterly pathetic and naïve to make promises you will not be able to keep,” Turmoil snorts and swats the white jet away from Drift as if he were nothing, relishing the sound Wing makes as he lands with a sickening thud into the corridor wall, not four feet away. 

“ARGH!” Wing feels his wings crush and break against his back as he is launched into the wall. He slides down the unforgiving mass, a small trail of energon smearing along with him. “L-Leave him alone!” Wing screams trying to gather the strength to stand and defend his loved ones, but with his damaged wings, finding his bearings is nigh impossible; his equilibrium sensor alarms lighting up his HUD. 

Axe stares in disbelief for a split second before quickly trying to put himself between Drift and Turmoil. 

“Oh I don’t think so, big mech!” Turmoil smashes his cannon into the side of Axes helm as the knight maneuvers in front of him. The impact of which sends Axe careening into a heap alongside Wing.  
Axe groans and slumps down, disoriented and useless for the time being. “…urgh…”

“And now to finish this, I do hope you’re watching, Deadlock, I would so hate for you to miss the death of all you hold dear. Let’s start with the annoying white jet, shall we?” Turmoil aims his cannon at Wing and grins sadistically.

Drift watches in horror as Turmoil effortlessly dispatches his love and the closest thing to a creator he ever had. He snarls loud, pulling his last vestiges of strength and propelling himself into Turmoil’s legs just as he is about to shoot. “NOOOOOOO!!!!”

Turmoil senses Drift and just as Drift is about to take out his leg, Turmoil extends it, driving his pede into Drifts abdomen hard, heaving Drift into Wing with a thud. “Ha ha ha! Well, if that’s how you want it, then who am I to stop you, Deadlock…”  
Turmoil charges up his cannon and aims it at the three knights.

oooo0000oooo

Dai Atlas brutally and efficiently dispatches Turmoil’s crew as he, Rodimus and Perceptor cut through the corridors on their way to the Lost Light, Whirl and Trailbreaker.  
“Area secure, Rodimus!”

“Of course it’s secure, dummy! No thanks to you of course. Once again, Whirl has to save the day…” 

“Doesn’t matter to me so long as we can get the frag outta here!” Rodimus chuckles as he heads to the airlock. 

As Perceptor surveys the scene he is assaulted with fear which buzzes heavily in his EMF, “Wait! Where is Drift? And Wing and Axe…I-I thought they were right behind us…”

“I am going back! Stay here!” 

“Dai Atlas, you will need back up! I cannot allow you to go alone!” Perceptor quickly falls in behind the leader of the Knights.

In no mood to argue and aware that this is not an argument he will win, Dai Atlas concedes, “Very well then, it is appreciated, Perceptor.”

“You had better get back here in one piece! All of you!” Failed again…will it ever stop? Will he ever stop being a failure? Rodimus shakes his helm as if to rid himself of the thoughts that plague his processor. 

oooo0000oooo

 

Drift closes his optics, his strength now completely gone as he slumps against Wing, the last of his energon trickling between them. So be it then, he will die in the arms of his Conjunx Endura, grateful that Perceptor will be spared, regretting only that he never told his scientist turned sniper how he feels. He feels Wings arms tighten around him as his beloved jet fills their EMFs with love and peace.

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Wing holds Drift close, regretting only that he could not protect his Conjunx Endura, his own optics closing as he fills their combined EMFs with love and peace.

~~~~~~~~~~

Axe finally starts to come too, the cold, stark realization of their current situation laid bare in the barrel of the cannon before him. His optics widen as he rails against the reality set before him. No! This can’t be it! His Little One! His Winglet! Oh Dai! Please forgive his failure! 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dai Atlas and Perceptor race through the corridor skidding to a halt at the scene before them. 

Perceptor screams and pulls his guns aiming them at Turmoil.

Dai Atlas howls and draws his Great Sword arcing it over his head as he jumps toward Turmoil.

Turmoil turns toward the screams, his optics widening under his visor, his frame turning slightly, his cannon shifting to meet the new threat.

Perceptor rapid fires off rounds into Turmoil’s chest as Dai Atlas slices into Turmoil, taking his cannon arm clear off at the shoulder. 

Energon copiously spurts out as Turmoil staggers back howling in pain and rage. With a look of pure, unbridled anger and the promise of more violence to come he takes off.

Drift opens his optics at hearing Perceptor and smiles brightly at the scientist as he rushes over and holsters his weapons. “…m-my…h-hero…”

Wing grins and gently squeezes Drift, smiling up at Perceptor as well. “That makes two of us!”

Perceptor embraces both Drift and Wing, a hand behind both their helms pressing them gently into to his own helm. “I cannot lose you…either of you….I…I love you…both of you….”

Drift feels his spark race, his EMF bursting with joy at Perceptor’s admission. “…I l-love you too…Uhn…urgh…Per-Percy…” His intakes rattle and wheeze terribly, Drifts strength fading the more he speaks. “…huh…have…..s-since…d-day….m-met…”

“Y-You have? Oh Drift! I…I am so happy, but please, Drift, as much I have yearned for you to utter those words, please…don’t talk…save your strength”

Wing nuzzles Perceptor and Drift, smiling softly. “I love you as well, Perceptor.”

“Axe…”

“D-Dai…”

Dai Atlas sheaths his Great Sword and kneels beside his spark mate, pulling him into his arms without another thought. “I love you,”

“I know…” Axe softly teases and wraps his arms around Dai Atlas. “Just had to show me up, huh?”

“Well, I can’t let you have all the fun, love,” Dai helps Axe to his pedes and looks at the pile of mechs below him. “As fun as this is, we really should be going.”

Perceptor nods and looks at Wings as he stands up. “I concur. Wing, Can you walk?” 

“I’ll need help, Perceptor, unfortunately; my wings are broke…” Drift whines upon hearing that and clutches weakly at him. “Shhhh, love, it’s alright. I’ll be fine. Not the first time it’s happened.”

“Axe, can you manage on your own so that I can carry Drift? Perceptor, you can help Wing, yes?”

Axe nods and smiles. “Yes, I will be fine…just a bit wobbly, wouldn’t want to risk carrying Drift though, Dai.”

“Absolutely, Dai Atlas, I will be more than happy to assist Wing.”

“Alright then, very good. Little One,” Dai kneels beside Wing and Drift and slips his arms gently underneath Drift. “Ready?”

Drift winces and nods weakly, preparing himself as best he can for the agony about to assault him. 

Dai Atlas kisses the top of Drifts helm before picking him up. “Primus forgive me,”

Drift cannot help the agonized scream that breaks from his vocalizer as he is lifted up. Mercifully he passes out. 

Perceptor wraps his arm around Wing as Axe steps beside Dai Atlas, the whole group finally making their way to the Lost Light.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY!! lol... Sorry for the wait guys! I sure hope you enjoy it! I apologize for any and all errors....I try, but my eyes do miss things a lot.

LOST LIGHT  
ONE HOUR LATER  
OBSERVATION DECK

“Thought I would find you here,” Axe quietly walks in and stands beside his mate, gazing out at the stars. Dai Atlas’ gives a tired sigh in response. “Ratchet said it was going to be awhile and kicked us all out. Well, of course that was after Perceptor repaired Wing and I,” he slips his arm around Dai’s waist and softly caresses the small of his back. “Dai, my love, it will be alright. I promise you. Little One is strong and Ratchet is a renowned medic, who also happens to love Drift as well; he will pull through.”

Dai Atlas draws in a deep intake and releases it slowly through his vents, his gaze fixed outward on the stars. “Axe…I was so wrong. So very wrong. I should have welcomed him with open arms when he first came to us. I should have helped to show him the way alongside Wing and you. But no, I instead belittled and berated him every step of the way. I drove him to seek escape from Crystal City. Had I have not; he would not have gone to the slavers…the deal never would have been made, Wing would not have suffered, Drift would have stayed and he would most certainly NOT be in this situation! This is all my fault, Axe. All of it. Because of my self-righteous attitude, I went against everything the Knights stand for,” Dai Atlas turns to face his best friend, his second, his lover…his Conjunx Endura, the dim glow from the stars illuminating his frame coated thick with Drift’s dried energon. “I could not even look at him…I refused to see his wounds…I refused to acknowledge my betrayal. He was a lost spark in need of guidance and I turned him away…I have failed in every way possible. I concede leadership of the Knights to you for I am not fit to lead anyone…” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

OUTSIDE THE MEDIBAY

Rodimus keeps his vigil with his back to the wall, knees drawn up, forearms resting loosely upon his knees. Every so often he peers over at Perceptor and Wing clutched together, optics never leaving the medibay door. Wow…that’s devotion for ya. Just one more life he fragged up…one more--“It’s not your fault, ya know,” Rodimus turns and looks up to see who was so rude as to interrupt his wallowing—again. Sunstreaker. Of course. Who else would be so blatantly rude? Of course, he is secretly REALLY glad he sought him out. The gorgeous frontliner DOES care! He’ll have to use this later if—when—Drift wakes up. “But—“

Bob wiggles under the captain’s legs as Sunstreaker takes a seat beside him. “And don’t you dare argue with me. I have a TON of counters to anything you can throw at me.” Sunstreaker leans his helm into Rodimus’ while taking hold of his hand.

He smiles at his lover, truly grateful. “Thanks, Sunny…seriously…” Rodimus nuzzles into the yellow Lambo, “…and thank you too, Bob.” Rodimus entwines their fingers and gives Bob some pets, who happily chirrs his appreciation. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

MEDIBAY

“Slaggin pain in my aft stupid fragging kid!” Ratchet growls, his hands elbow deep inside Drift, covered in his energon. “I swear…I’m gonna keep him alive just to kill him! And then do it again!”

First Aid sighs and continues to suction away the energon that continues to pool into the wound. “How about you just hug him instead? I think that would probably work better…”

“I didn’t ask what you thought, did I? Hug him…pfft! Strangle…yes. Strangle…I like that far better…look at these injuries! How the frag….DAMMIT! We need to jump him again! Aid! Drift don’t you DARE!!!!”

_Huh. Ratchs’ hands really are fast. That’s an awful lot of energon. His energon. Drift, well, the image of Drift sidles up to the CMO and looks down at himself. He looks so small…and weak. Is that how everyone else sees him?_

“Dammit kid! Come on! Don’t you fragging dare quit on me now!!!!” Ratchet screams down at Drifts unconscious broken form; jumpers dangling from his spark chamber and connecting to Drifts. 

_“Don’t want to Ratch…I’m tired…really tired,” Drift walks away from the scene and heads out into the hall coming to face Wing and Perceptor, the sight of both of them rooting him to the ground._

Wing leans back into Perceptor and rests his helm against his shoulder, his optics glued to the medibay door in front of them. The jet shivers, letting out a tiny whine. Perceptor wraps his arms tighter around Wing, pulling him closer and resting his chin on Wings shoulder. The two sit in silence staring at the door, sharing in the worry of their beloved; EMFs entwined echoing each other’s misery. “I can’t lose him…I’ve only just found him…” 

“I know, Wing…I know. I cannot lose him either. Drift is my world. He is the ONLY reason I am alive…the only reason I care to continue to live. He has my spark now and forever.”

Wing nuzzles against Perceptor and kisses his cheek. “He is my world as well and the keeper of my own spark. Drift is…he is my sky…”

Perceptor returns the nuzzle and kiss, sighing softly. “And you are his sun; always have been. He has been through too much. Far too much; I do not know how much more abuse his frame, spark and processor can endure.” 

“I know…I fear that as well, but he is strong. He will fight for us, if not himself. We must never give up hope, Perceptor. And we will protect him until our sparks give out.”

“His injuries though…Wing, he has sustained such brutal trauma and we are without the proper equipment to repair him fully. He needs to be in regen…he…he will require extensive…” Perceptor’s vocalizer crackles and fades out as he speaks, his fear for Drift getting the better of him.

Wing turns in the scientist’s arms, embracing him tightly, no other words needed.

_Oh…Wing...Perceptor…Drift turns to look back into the medibay to a screaming Ratchet over his body. Ratchet…The gleaming white swordsmech closes his optics…_

 

“That’s it kid! Come on back!!”

“His spark is stabilizing, Ratchet! He’s back!” First Aid sags with relief and disconnects the two mechs from each other, looking up at his mentor expectantly.

“What?”

“Nothing…just…nothing...” First Aid grins under his mask very glad for having one at this particular time. 

“Damn slagging straight nothing. Now come on, help me turn him so I can work on sealing the wounds on the back of his frame,” Ratchet will never; ever admit the hand Adaptus or Primus or whatever the frag you wanna call…it had to play in Drifts miracle.

~~~~~~~~  
OBSERVATION DECK

 

Axe listens patiently to his mate, his spark breaking for the guilt and sorrow Dai Atlas is carrying. Axe continuously caresses Dai’s back, pulsing strong love and comfort over their bond. “Dai, we all know you were only doing as you thought best. We cannot change the past; we can only learn from our mistakes and grow from what we have learned. One must except that past events have shaped us into what we have become today; good or bad. Drift had his own path to follow. He had much to learn and do you not think that the separation of Wing and Drift only furthered served to nurture and strengthen their love for one another? You are our leader. And I will not except this…crazy talk form you. I love you; Wing loves you and so does Drift. Nothing will ever change that. The fact that you feel remorse over how you treated him is proof that you are a good, noble, honorable mech and the right one to lead the Knights.” Axe smiles lovingly up at the love of his life, hoping his words, spoken true and straight from his spark will help to soothe the wounds in Dai’s spark.

Dai Atlas stands speechless as he listens to Axe, gazing upon him reverently. He reaches out a hand and softly smooth’s his Conjunx Enduras cheek with his thumb. “Oh, Axe…I love you so.” With that, he pulls his second into his arms and embraces him, pouring affection, love and adoration through their bond. “How did you get so wise? Hm?” Dai chuckles softly, purring into Axes audials.

Axe nuzzles into Dai and returns the soft chuckle. “I had one pit of a great teacher. Now, how about we get you cleaned up?”

 

~~~~~~~~~~

MEDIBAY  
SEVERAL HOURS LATER

Ratchet and First Aid finally finish the arduous task of repairing Drift and get him settled into Isolation. The young apprentice looks over their patient and shakes his helm. “Turmoil really did a number on him…Ratch, his wounds…” First Aid pauses a moment to reset his vocalizer, “…I have never seen such grievous, heinously cruel wounds before. And to be honest with you, I have my doubts on keeping Drift in traction. I mean, he was restrained, horrifically and I think this might be bad for him, you know? He’s going to have to speak to Rung too…poor Drift…”

“Don’t let him hear you say that. He hates pity more than anything and yeah, I know that thought had crossed my processor too, but we can’t risk him moving even the slightest.” How is he supposed to keep his composure if Aid keeps pointing out just how bad Drift is hurt? As if he isn’t keenly aware that Drift was raped multiple times for a very long time. As if he isn’t aware that most of Drifts valve will have to be rebuilt. As if…

“I’m sorry, Ratchet. I know how much you care for Drift. I didn’t mean to insinuate otherwise.” First Aid gently squeezes his CMO’s shoulder.

“It’s alright. This...this just…Aid, give me a moment with him before we tell the others, alright?” Ratchet looks over at First Aid desperately hoping he doesn’t look as shaken as he feels. His voice is steady, so that’s a plus. And his hands remained steady as well…his inner emotions however, well, that’s an entirely different story.

“Of course, Ratchet.” First Aid smiles and squeezes his CMO’s shoulder again before walking into his office and closing the door.

“Aw kid…” Ratchet looks over Drift and sits beside him, rubbing the swordsmechs hand and gently caressing his forehelm. “Almost lost ya; it was bad, real bad this time. Ya scared the slag outta me, Drift…worse than in Rodion; worse than Delphi. Ya really need to stop making this a habit,” The exhausted medic takes Drifts smaller hand in both of his and brings it up to his face, tenderly planting a kiss on the back of Drifts hand. “I love you, Drift. I…I think of you as my own and….and I h-hate seeing you like this…” Ratchets intakes choke and sputter; his emotions far too close to the surface. He stares down at Drifts unconscious form gently rubbing the back of Drifts hand with his thumb. Ratchet tenderly caresses Drifts cheek and then his forehelm and finial going back to his cheek to start the cycle of rubs over. “I swear to ya kid no harm will ever come to you again,”

Drift groans very softly, his intakes wheezing and rattling. His optics slowly shutter and flutter open the tiniest bit, flickering dim and white into the diffusely lit room. It takes a few moments for Drift to try and speak, his first several attempts nothing more than painful static laced hisses of pain. “…’s…m’job…”

Ratchet continues to hold Drifts hand and rub his cheeks, hoping to hell Drift hasn’t noticed the tears sliding down the most definitely NOT crying old medic’s cheeks. “Hush, kid…save your strength; you’ve been through hell and back and have a very LONG road of recovery ahead of you. And as for that being your job, I don’t think so. You happen to be terrible at it.”

A tiny smile curls the corner of Drifts battered mouth. “...urgh…uhn…mm…l-love…” Drift snaps his optics shut and gasps in pain, his hand weakly squeezing Ratchets. 

“Aw, Drift…” Ratchet gently squeezes Drifts hand and rubs his forehelm. “You need to rest. I’m going to have to sedate you for the time being, okay. The pain is far too much for you,” Ratchet notices the defiance in the tiny shake of Drifts helm. He never stops, hell, even barely functioning he’s stubborn as slag. “Bap bap bap! No arguments. My medibay. My rules, ya pain in my aft. And yeah, yeah, I know, you love me too.”

Drift shivers and attempts another smile, beyond grateful for Ratchet. He opens his optics back up a little and nods as best he can, watching his medic intently as Ratchet injects the sedative into an energon infusion line. Primus there are a lot of lines and wires…and…monitors…and…

Ratchet kisses Drifts forehelm as he slips off into what Ratchet hopes is a peaceful sedation. He careful checks all the swordsmechs fluid infusions, wires, cables and monitors making sure everything is in working order and that Drift is comfortable. Ratchet next checks the device attached to Drifts interface equipment. A device he has never had to use and has always hoped he would never NEED to use. The device attaches to Drifts entire interface area, engulfing both spike and its housing and his valve. It is almost like a mini-regen tank. It cleanses the area meticulously first, then constantly swirls a mix of energon and a special nutrient rich liquid designed to promote healing, reduce pain and swelling, encourage sensory mesh and nodes to regenerate and make the application of new parts much easier. A wondrous, ingenious device. A device only required when one’s entire interface equipment has been destroyed. Oh Drift. Ratchet intakes heavily and carefully covers Drift with a thermal blanket, preserving his dignity and kisses Drifts forehelm once more before walking out of his room.

First Aid knew, he really, REALLY knew he shouldn’t have watched the monitor with the feed into Drifts isolation room. He especially knew that he shouldn’t have turned up the volume either, but he did and now he can’t stop the tears from falling; once again glad for the visor and facial mask. Oh Drift! Oh Ratchet! Oh oh oh oh oh!! It’s just all so sad! So sad and unfair and cruel…Should he run out there and hug them both? Oh he wants to so badly! So very badly! He knew it! He just knew Ratchet was an emotional wreck over this! He always acts so gruff and mean but he is such a mush! He has just about got to have the biggest spark Aid has ever seen! Well, Ratchet will just have to allow Aid to comfort him, that’s all. He’s gonna need it. He does need it! Is Ratchet…crying? He is! He is slumped down, helm hanging as he is washing his hands and crying! Oh no! That will just never do! First Aid rushes out of his office and over to Ratchet. Wasting no time at all, he pulls his CMO into his strong arms and hugs him. Aid feels Ratchet stiffen and prepare to protest violently against the hug before he relents and sobs into First Aid. “I know, Ratch…I know…”

“…Hafta…tell everyone…”

“Not yet we don’t, Ratchet, not yet. You need to catch your breath, as they say. Take a moment to be Ratchet, not Chief Medical Officer Ratchet, but Ratchet. Ratchet whose friend, whose “son”, as the humans would say, and I know that’s how you feel about him, almost died, who is hurt badly. For once, let someone care for you.”

Ratchet snorts, but easily complies and allows himself to be comforted as he softly weeps into First Aids shoulder.

~~~~~~~~~~~

SWERVES

 

“I’m telling ya! Claw ta Primus, Drift was SLAGGED THE FRAG UP! Missing half his parts and dented all ta hell, leaking all over the place! Leaking from everywhere! Turmoil had a whole lotta fun!” Whirl chugs down the last of the engex in his cup through a straw and slams the now empty cup on the bar.

“No way! Really?!” Swerve refills Whirls cup, his jaw hanging open in disbelief.

“Really really bar keep!” Had Whirl have had a mouth he’d be smirking proudly at the crowd who has gathered around him. “And when I say everywhere, I mean EVERYWHERE!”

“Whirl! That’s enough!” Rung exclaims from his place across Whirl. 

“He fragging damn slagging well deserves it! Slaggin pit-spawned traitor!” Trailbreaker snorts and yells over the din. “What? Don’t give me that look. I seen the majority of ya chuck a bunch a slag at him when Rodimus kicked his aft out so don’t any of ya hand me this load of scrap that yawl care and think any different,”

Fortress Maximus watches and listens from his seat at a table off by himself. “He certainly is a traitor and deserving of punishment,” Max mutters, unbeknownst that his words fall upon the audials of Tailgate.

 

“No one deserves to be tortured and raped mercilessly, Trailbreaker. I am astounded that any of you would so much as enjoy hearing about the suffering of a fellow Autobot and friend,” Rung admonishes everyone in earshot, shaking with rage as he storms toward Trailbreaker.

“He ain’t an Autobot no more, doc. Rodimus didn’t just his insignia for nothing ya know,” Trailbreaker retorts. “And, as for the ‘rape’,” Trailbreaker slides off his bar stool and finger quotes to emphasize his point, “I’m sure ol’buymech enjoyed it. After all, his valve is so used up he probably didn’t feel it!” Trailbreaker sways in all his drunken glory and roars with laughter.

Rung stands before Trailbreaker, slack-jawed at the words coming out of his mouth. He balls his hands into fists and raises his left hand preparing to hit Trailbreaker.

“Easy there, love,” Skids whispers into Rungs audial. “Allow me,” Skids slams his fist into the force field generators’ face knocking him down hard into the floor. “Let’s go, hero.” The theoretician scoops up his stunned lover and carries him out of Swerves.

“Well damn I love it here!” Whirl’s laughter fills the stunned silence for all of a minute before everyone else joins in and resumes drinking.

Fort Max reluctantly finishes his drink and stands up maneuvering over to the unconscious Trailbreaker. He bends down and hauls Trailbreaker up and over his shoulder. “To the brig with you and I hope to hell you sleep it off.” 

oo000oo

Fort Max unceremoniously deposits the drunken Trailbreaker into an empty cell in the brig, the force of which wakens Trailbreaker from his nap.

 

“Ow! H-Hey! That hurt! What’s with the cell, Max?” Trailbreaker makes an attempt to stand but slips and falls instead, now content to slur his words and converse from the floor.

Fort Max sighs and shakes his helm. “You’re drunk, ‘Breaker. You need to recharge it off and you were causing a scene in Swerves.”

“So ya dump me in here? Litzen, Max…I ‘sheard what ya said to Rodimus bout Drift…I know you feel the same. He’s an ex…ex-Con, Max! ‘Scan’t be trust….trusted. ‘Sa whore too. Rodsmisses finally figureds it out too. Cosa him, Overlord….OVER L-O-R-D gots free, Max! Drift is a traitorous fragging piece a gutter slag! N-Needs ta be edumacated! I hate him! Hos he Third in charge? Oh yeah, ‘snot anymores! Frag. Him!” Trailbreaker falls back and passes out.

“Thank Primus…” Max shakes his helm and leaves.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

OUTSIDE THE MEDIBAY

 

The hiss of the medibay doors sliding open shatters the silence that has settled over the vigil Rodimus, Sunstreaker, Perceptor and Wing have kept for the past several hours. Axe and Dai appear from around the corner and walk over as everyone stands up eagerly awaiting.

Ratchet stands in the doorway, First Aid present at his side silently providing comfort. He takes a deep intake and meets the gaze of each one of his crew mates and friends. “Drift will live,”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well my goodness this story just keeps getting longer and I keep wanting to add more and more! There is a bit of fluff...sweet fluff...things may get a bit drowsy and slow for a while, but I promise they will pick up, for I cannot go long without torturing those I love. It's a sickness lol...I can't help it, but the feels after is just sooooo nummy! :P
> 
> ******I apologize, but I felt to add Roddy and Sunny in order for the chapter to feel complete. Forgive me. And enjoy!*****

Chapter 7

 

OUTSIDE THE MEDIBAY

 

A collective sigh of relief and an exclamation of elation rings out among everyone; everyone, except Perceptor, whose expression is one of dire concern. Wing looks up at him and hugs him tightly. Perceptor holds Wing close and rubs his back as he addresses Ratchet. “How bad, Ratchet?”

“Well—“ Ratchet begins to explain.

“I need to see him right away, Ratchet,” Rodimus demands of his CMO as he pushes toward the door, trying to get passed Ratchet and First Aid.

“Roddy~…” Sunstreaker hooks his arm around the captain’s waist and pulls him back against him.

“Don’t you ‘Roddy’ me, Sunny. I am the captain and I get to see him first! I need to speak with him!”

Perceptor snaps, releases Wing and rounds on Rodimus. “How dare you!? You banish him, rip off his Autobrand and then DEMAND to see him the moment he is out of surgery before his MATES? From injuries you were the direct cause of?!”

Rodimus glares and pushes Perceptor back into Ratchet. “Back off Percy! Neither one of you has bonded with him yet so you can’t even use that term! Keep it up and I’ll throw your aft in the brig and then you won’t get to see him!”

“RODIMUS!” Sunstreaker exclaims in shock. The yellow mech grabs Rodimus’ arms and holds him back as First Aid restrains the sniper, whose targeting monocle zooms in on the captain and whose fingers clench as if around triggers.

The Knights watch in disbelief. Ratchet exhaustively pinches the bridge of his nose and intakes deeply, shaking his helm. Sunstreaker and First Aid merely look helplessly at one another as they tighten their grip on their captives.

“ENOUGH! Keep it up and NO ONE will see MY patient! The last thing Drift needs is all of you fighting with each other! Rodimus, you will not see him first! Wing and Perceptor will; then you, captain, then Axe and Dai Atlas. But first, you all need to be prepared and listen to me. LISTEN! Not talk; not fight; not glare, but LISTEN. Do I make myself clear?!” Ratchet growls as he looks from mech to mech to mech. 

Dai Atlas and Axe look highly impressed and altogether too smug.

Wing curiously has the same look. 

Sunstreaker looks bored.

Bob is curled up at his masters pedes.

First Aid looks exhausted. 

Perceptor composes himself. 

Rodimus seethes, yet reluctantly nods. 

“Alright then, Aid...Sunny, if you’d be so kind...” Ratchet tips his hand forward indicating that both sniper and captain be released. “Now then, if I may continue?” He waits for everyone to settle down, eventually all quietly nod giving their collective assent. 

“Very well then; as you all are aware, Drift has suffered horrific injuries and that our only regen tank is currently in use. His self-repair systems are not only taxed to their limits, but they are very weak to begin with. Drift, due to the fact that he spent millions of years with little to no fuel in his tanks has virtually no self-repair. Self-repair needs fuel—proper fuel to maintain proper functioning capabilities. That being said, his recovery time is going to be lengthy to say the least. I have him sedated right now; he did wake up very briefly, but the pain was far too much for him so I will leave him sedated for now. He is in traction and will remain so for at least a couple of weeks. Drifts joints and load bearing struts and pistons were virtually destroyed. I not only had to rewire several of his sensory systems, but I had to replace tension cables and struts and pistons as well; some of which are still being fabricated. His spark chamber was breached and he…his spark guttered on us twice. We had to jump him. I…I almost lost him,” Ratchet watches as Axe and Dai hold onto each other; Wing buries himself into Perceptor’s chest, the latter closes his optics; and Sunstreaker wraps his arms tighter around Rodimus. 

“But he came back to us. He had several internal injuries Aid and I were able to repair. His scabbards and fenders as well his thigh armor were torn off. I have not replaced them as of yet because they are not necessary to his recovery; I will have Aid take care of that down the road. Drift was also given a heavy dose of circuit boosters, but I was able to repair that damage as well and I will deal with his withdrawal should he suffer from it. He will eventually need to speak with Rung about that and another issue,” Ratchet draws in a deep intake and mentally prepares for the rest of it before he continues, “What I am about to tell you is not to be spoken to anyone and the only reason I tell all of you is because I feel you all have a right to know. Dai and Axe: you both care for Drift as your own, just like me. I assume we will be his caregivers, which we can discuss later,” Axe and Dai nod. “Sunny, I know you will understand and can help Drift and I know Rodimus will just tell you anyway, no offense. Rodimus, obviously, you are captain and need to know. Wing, Perceptor, you are his loved ones. Drift,” The tired CMO intakes deep again, “Drift was raped; brutally, horrifically, cruelly by two different mechs several times a day for the entirety of his imprisonment. His valve…was decimated and will need to be replaced. His spike was also injured, though not quite as bad. I had to use IRARU,” Ratchet is met with five confused expressions and a sniper in tears. “Interface Regeneration and Restorative Unit, it is a device that will help to heal his valve and spike. Like I said, Drift is in an unimaginable amount of agony from all his injuries. He is hooked up to several lines and well, he doesn’t exactly look like himself, so please don’t be shocked. He doesn’t need a bunch of gasps and pitiful expressions that will only worry him. Drift is in Isolation and will remain there for the duration of his recovery until he can be moved to his hab suite. I would prefer it if he were to have a guard—“

Sunstreaker interrupts Ratchet, his spark aching for what Drift has gone through and understand fully. “I will do it. I don’t trust anyone else to. Drift has a lot of enemies on board and I know what it’s like to be hated among ‘friends’ and, well, I happen to like him.” 

Rodimus nods his agreement with Sunstreaker as he slips out of his embrace and paces; furious for a number of reasons.

“I was hoping you’d offer, kid,” Ratchet nods at his longtime friend and charge. “Drift will need all the love and support we all can give him. Now, Wing and Perceptor, I have already assumed that the both of you will not be leaving Drifts side at any time,” Ratchet softly and tiredly smiles at them, “so Aid has, per my instructions, placed an extra berth in his room for you both along with an energon dispenser. Yeah, yeah…I figured this way I wouldn’t have to listen to both of your arguments as to why it is imperative that you are both by his side and I know Drift will be in the best of care when Aid and I are busy or recharging.”

Wing bounces over to Ratchet and throws his arms around the tired medic. 

“Oof!” Ratchet grunts and hugs Wing back.

“Oh thank you, Ratchet!!” Wing kisses Ratchets cheek and moves to First Aid, hugging him and kissing his cheek as well. “Thank you, First Aid!”

First Aid graciously returns the hug and pats the jets back fondly. “Oh, well, gee Wing, you don’t have to thank us,” Aid smiles radiantly and then yawns.

Perceptor forlornly stares through Ratchet, Wing and First Aid into the medibay his lower lip trembling. His legs move of their own accord and take him to Drift.

Dai and Axe watch Perceptor, both their sparks breaking for him, for Wing…for Drift. Dai Atlas squeezes his mate and closes the gaps to Ratchet, Wing and First Aid. “Thank you, Ratchet. You remind us of Redline. Our medic, knight and…” Dai’s voice cracks, preventing him from finishing his sentence. 

Axe steps up beside Dai and takes hold of his hand. “…Our mate. We do not know if he made it, but we will not lose hope. We will retire for the night and return in the morning to check on our Little One and discuss our charge with you then. Good night, Ratchet, First Aid. Thank you for saving him,” Axe smiles and clasps the CMO on his shoulder, who nods tiredly in agreement with the knight. Axe turns to Wing. “Winglet,” Axe and Dai pull their charge into a loving embrace. “…get your rest and make sure you fuel. Tell Little One we will return in the morning.” Axe kisses Wings cheek and watches as Dai does the same. With a final thank you, both mechs depart.

“You ready, Roddy?” Sunstreaker turns to Rodimus only to find him gone. “Frag…”

“Go after him, Sunny. Guard duty can start tomorrow. I’ll lock the medibay down tonight.” Ratchet gives Sunstreaker a pat on his shoulder and then a swat on his aft when the Lambo doesn’t move. “Go!” 

Sunstreaker bounces off after Rodimus with his trademark smirk and Bob happily bounding behind him.

Wing smiles sadly at the two medics and quietly heads to Drifts isolation room.

First Aid looks up at Ratchet, his visor glowing bright. “You need to recharge, Ratch.”

“I know…uh, Aid?”

“Yes, Ratch?”

“Would ya mind keeping this tired old medic company?”

First Aids visor glows even brighter and a tiny squeal leaps joyfully from his vocalizer, which he tries very hard to hide, but judging from his mentors rolling optics, he failed. First Aid chuckles, “Of course! Let’s go! Someone has to look out for you!”

“Why do I get the feeling I’m gonna regret this? C’mon, smart aft,” Ratchet walks back into the medibay and through a door in the far corner just passed isolation and into his hab suite along with a VERY happy First Aid. 

oo000oo

ISOLATION ROOM 1

Perceptor cautiously steps over the threshold and into Drifts room. “Oh Drift…” The scientist softly gasps as he looks over his love; his optics taking in all of Drifts wounds. He notes how Drift is still missing his forearm wheel and how disconcerting it is to see him missing so much of what defines him. The soft bleeps from the spark monitor along with the quiet hum of the various energon, coolant, and oil infusion lines mingle sympathetically with the wheeze from Drifts intakes. Perceptor slowly sits beside his beloved the soft glow from the machines illuminating Drifts battered frame, somehow making him look smaller and far frailer. Perceptor gently smoothes out a few wrinkles in the blanket and pulls it up a little more around his swordsmech. He brushes his fingers lightly, lovingly over Drifts cheeks and forehelm and sighs heavily. Perceptor carefully slips his hand around Drifts, delicately rubbing his fingers. “I wish I could have prevented this. You most certainly did not deserve any of the suffering you have endured. And suffer you most assuredly have…oh Drift…I love you so very much. I cannot bear to witness you undergo such agony. You are such a kind, loving, honorable and beautiful spark and this is so unjust. You deserve happiness and care and love and—“

“…and he will have it because we will give it to him.” Wing wraps his arms around Perceptor from behind and presses his face against the snipers, both moist with tears. 

Perceptor leans into Wing and touches the jets arms with his hand, still warm from Drifts helm. “I feel as if my spark is breaking every time he draws a pained intake…look at him…look at our poor, broken Drift.” The red mechs voice shakes and crackles with static, his EMF buzzing with sorrow. 

Wing tightens his embrace and brushes his hope and comfort filled EMF over Perceptor’s as he nuzzles against the sniper. “I know, Perceptor, I know. But he is alive and he will heal. As much as it pains me to see him like this…and it really, really does…we must be strong for him.” The jet kisses Perceptor’s cheek and slides down in front of Perceptor, his hands gliding over the scientists shoulders, coming to rest on his thighs. Wing looks up at Perceptor, his golden optics glowing bright, “I love you, Perceptor. Our Drift will be just fine. Do you know why?” Wing waits for Perceptor to answer, but the scientist can only stare at Drift, his own bright blue optics liquid with worry. Wing tilts Perceptor’s chin so that he is forced to meet his gaze. “He will be fine because we will help him. We will be together every step of the way for him. Helping him; loving him; nurturing him. His joy is all we care about. We will see to it that Drift spends the rest of his days safe, loved and incredibly happy.” Wing flashes Perceptor his most radiant of smiles before standing up and hugging the sniper tightly. 

Perceptor returns the hug, grateful for it and the counsel the knight brought with him. “Thank you, Wing. I am so very pleased that Drift and I have you in our lives. I cannot imagine life without you; nor would I have any subsequent desire to.” He tenderly plants a kiss on the jets cheek as Wing breaks the embrace.

Wing smiles again and walks the few paces around to the other side of Drift. The knight kisses Drifts forehelm, then each finial, then his nose and finally his lips before gracefully sitting down. Wing carefully takes hold of Drifts hand, and strokes his brow, humming softly. 

Perceptor watches and smiles softly, very glad for not feeling, not even so much as detecting any trace of jealously. His smile grows as he listens to Wing hum; recognizing the tune. “Hm, I know that tune. Drift would hum that quite often…usually at night or after a particularly rough assignment while we were with the Wreckers…”

Wing smiles brightly, his optics never leaving Drift. “I used to hum it to him when he was upset, which was more often than not. It swells my spark with joy to know he remembers it.”

Perceptor returns the smile, “Ahhh, well that explains why it comforted him so. You had quite the influence on him, you know,”

Wing lovingly strokes Drifts forehelm and brushes his fingers over his finials. “I am very glad. Drift is extremely special. I knew from the moment I saw him. I love him so much, Perceptor. He is everything to me He always has been.”

Perceptor rubs Drifts hand as he lovingly looks down at him, the love he feels for Drift flaring strong in his EMF. How can he possibly put into words just how he feels, how much he loves him? For someone with such a gift in linguistics, how can Perceptor NOT find the words? 

Wing watches the struggle for words on Perceptor’s face, finding it incredibly endearing. He extends his arm across Drift and squeezes the snipers arm, flashing him a smile borne of understanding and love. “I know. The love you have for Drift goes beyond what any mere word can define or express. It must be shown.”

Nodding his agreement, Perceptor sighs and smiles sadly. “We should probably rest as Drift will not be waking anytime tonight.” He stands up and lays a tender kiss upon Drifts forehelm. “Rest, my love; we will be right here.”

The jet yawns and smiles softly, leaning down to place a sweet kiss on Drifts lips. Wing gently nuzzles his nose against Drifts cheek and whispers that he loves him. “Wise decision, Perceptor, I am exhausted,” Wing takes hold of the scientists hand and leads him to the small fold out berth.

Perceptor casts one last look at Drift before settling down on the berth. He pulls Wing down and into his arms, the jets back against his chest; both of them facing Drift. Wing snuggles back against him as Perceptor curls around him, nuzzling his face into Wings neck. “I love you, Wing.”

“And I love you, Perceptor, and we both love Drift.” 

“That we do, Wing…that we do,” Before long both mechs systems shut down as they fall into recharge together.

ooOOOoo

RODIMUS’ HAB SUITE

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Mind telling me what that was about?” Sunstreaker stands in front of a sulking Rodimus, lying on his berth. Bob bounces up on the berth, curling up at Rodimus’ pedes. Sunstreaker narrows his optics at Bob as he folds his arms over his chest. “Traitor,”

“What, what was about?” Rodimus sticks out his bottom lip, in what he hopes is an adorable pout. 

“Your threat to Perceptor, your demand to see Drift first and then you running away…” 

“Perceptor has been glaring at me since I let Drift go. He just doesn’t understand and he pissed me the frag off. It’s my fault Drift is in this condition and well…I ran cos…cos…” Rodimus pouts and turns away from Sunstreaker. “…Cos I didn’t want anyone to see me cry.”

Sunstreaker shakes his helm and looks over Rodimus, vents heavily, and then climbs in the berth beside him. He turns on his side and gathers Rodimus into his arms, glad that for once, he can be the comforter. “Aw, Roddy, this isn’t your fault. None of it is. You did what you thought was right. I may not have agreed, but it’s not my place. And you are most certainly NOT responsible for the actions of Turmoil. Percy is…well, he’s just a mech that’s been helm over heels in love with Drift FOREVER and is worried terribly—you saw him and Wing—so just give him some slack. Now come here and let your Sunny take care of you.”

Rodimus turns over and wraps himself around the yellow frontliner. “Thank you, Sunny…I needed that.”

Sunstreaker kisses Rodimus on his forehelm and holds him tight, softly nuzzling him. “I love you too, ya nut. Now get some recharge.”

The captain chuckles and kisses Sunstreaker’s cheek, nuzzling into his chest. “Yes sir!” It doesn’t take long for Rodimus to fall into recharge, but for his yellow lover, it’s a much different story—a long one at that.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you following, I truly apologize for the long update. My mind has been all over so many different ideas lately. I have not forgotten about this one though, I promise you! So I do hope you enjoy! Feed back is always welcome!

The white jet laughed. It was a light, airy laugh, a laugh not designed to hurt, but to be shared; enjoyed. “Oh Drift….it doesn’t have to hurt! It is beautiful and sweet….sensual and erotic…it feels GOOD. Ones valve is soft, delicate…full of sensory nodes. It brings forth all sorts of pleasure…” If not for the fact that the exquisitely beautiful jet was seated on Drifts VERY pressurized spike with that fragging gorgeous smile plastered across his face, he would have stormed off in an angry huff hours ago. But, that was not the case and here was Wing, in all his shameless glory, Drift’s spike sheathed inside the knight’s velvet, quivering warmth, with Drift wanting nothing more than for him to move; which Wing was definitely NOT doing. How could he explain to that gorgeous, sensual, perfectly…perfect, innocent in his own way jet, that to him, to Drift, the valve represented weakness, misery, suffering and pain; horrible pain. It was how Drift was used and controlled; how he survived. He never wanted to even so much as think of his valve again…but here was Wing, actually ENJOYING a spike, DRIFTS spike; In. His. Valve. And it doesn’t hurt…always hurt him...still hurts…bad…really bad… Wing? Drift tries to reach for the beautiful jet, but he can’t…he’s being restrained…Where are you going? Come back! Wha- Turmoil?! No! Wing! What happened to Wing? PAIN! HURT! MY VALVE! Drifts dream contorts to a memory purge; a very recent, very bad one. “URGH! N-NOOOOO! STOP! ARGH! P-PLEASE! No more! No M-MORE!” Hurts…so bad…so bad…make it stop! Why won’t it stop?! Where is Wing? Oh please be okay, Wing…Oh Primus my valve…torn….stop…no more…can’t take anymore… Drift still restrained in traction convulses, screeching and howling in pain and torment, deep in the throes of his memory purge. His temperature skyrockets, his welds start to tear from the thrashing along with several of his infusion lines all of which activate a series of alarms.

Wing and Perceptor, pulled from their recharge by the cacophony of alarms and Drift’s erratic EMF, jump from their berth as Ratchet and First Aid rush into the little room.

“DRIFT!” Wing and Perceptor exclaim in unison rushing to Drifts side. 

“Out! Now! Both of you!” Ratchet pushes the sniper and knight out of his way as he tries to stabilize the thrashing swordsmech. 

“But I can help!” Wing pleads, trying to force his way back to Drift.

“Wing I am serious! OUT! There is nothing you can do! Perceptor, use that logical processor of yours and escort your lover out!” First Aid rushes to reattach the lines Drift tore out as Ratchet presses on the swordsmech chest. “Drift! Listen to me, you are fine….you are safe. You need to calm down.”

“NO! STOP! URGH! AH! N-NO! PLEASE NO! GO A-AWAY!” Tears stream down from Drifts’ wild, unseeing optics.

Perceptor gently takes hold of the jets arm and tugs him toward the door. “Please, Wing, let them work,” His spark breaks as he listens to Drifts terrible pleas and anguished cries. “Wing…”

Wing wrestles himself free and runs over to Drifts side. “I will not be thrown out, Ratchet! YOU will listen to ME! I know how to help him! Trust me…please,” He looks down at Drift and leans in close, softly stroking his helm finials; rubbing little circles softly at the base, then upward in tender strokes, his thumb caressing the tip. Using his other hand, Wing very tenderly rubs Drifts belly. “Shh,” he whispers and coos softly, “It’s alright, my love, my little grounder. You are safe and sound. I am here. Your silly jet is here…” Wing gently kisses the corner of Drifts lips and nuzzles against his helm, continuing to coo sweetly.

“I fail to see how cooing and rubbing are going to—“ Ratchets misgivings are cut short as Drift settles right down, his systems stabilizing and the alarms quieting. 

Perceptor smiles, bemused, remaining silent as he watches Wing, Drift and the two shocked medics.

“…W-Wing?” Drift’s voice is strained and raspy, exhausted. He hurts so badly, but Wing…Wing is safe…he tries a small smile as his optics focus on the jet. “..s-silly…j-jet…”

Wing smiles radiantly, his gold optics shining brightly, “YOUR silly jet, beloved…now and forever,” Wing softly nuzzles Drift’s cheek and continues with the belly rubs. “Rest, my love, Perceptor and I are right here,” Wing tips his helm motioning for the sniper to come over.

Ratchet smiles inwardly, allowing Wing and Perceptor to continue calming Drift, “You have five minutes and then Aid and I need to tend to him,” Ratchet turns to First Aid, whispering, “Let’s give them some privacy,” First Aid nods and walks out with him.

“Understood, Ratchet, thank you,” Perceptor smiles gratefully at Ratchet and closes the distance between himself and Drift. “Hello, my handsome Knight,” 

Drift leans weakly into Wing as he nuzzles into his cheek, giving a shaky vent. Mm…the rubs on his belly feel so very good and the rubs on his finials even better. It’s been so very long since he was touched without being hurt. Tired, so very tired, weak and tired and HURT. Dear Primus, does he hurt. The pain clouds his judgment; fogs his processor, distorting reality, leaving everything a blur. He can’t stand not being able to tell the difference. “…’Ceptor?” Drift slowly turns his helm toward Perceptor, the simple movement draining all his strength.

“I am here, Drift,” Perceptor smiles softly, noticing how weak Drift is; how he is fighting to remain conscious. He leans in and kisses Drifts forehelm, granting him an exhausted smile from the swordsmech. “You need to rest. It’s okay, love, you can recharge. Wing and I will not leave your side; you will be safe. I promise.”

“Perceptor is right, beloved…on all accounts,” Wing smiles lovingly at Perceptor and then Drift, still caressing his finials.   
Drift nods weakly, his optics dimming and finally shutting. “Mm…p-promise…”

“Most assuredly we do, my darling,” The scientist places a chaste kiss on Drifts cheek. “Ratchet and First Aid are going to come in and tend to your wounds now, dear. Your welds opened and need to be repaired, but Wing and I will be just a mere few feet away, should you feel the need to have us resume our tender ministrations.” Perceptor smiles lovingly and gives Drift another kiss then sits on the berth, his optics never leaving Drift.

“Mm…l-love….v-voice…” A tired and dreamy smile graces Drifts lips as he relaxes further, slipping back into recharge. 

“That’s it, beloved, just relax.” Wing gently nuzzles Drift and tenderly kisses his lips, before going to sit next to Perceptor.

Ratchet and First Aid return, beginning to work on Drift again with the watchful optics of Drift’s lovers upon them.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy hurt and comfort...Teddy bear Axe...um...angst, I guess. Rodimus pays Drift a visit. So does Axe and Dai Atlas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a long one! Enjoy! Again...sorry for the errors and if anyone is too OOC...I apologize...but hey, it's from my head so it's how I see it. :P

Sunstreaker huffs air out of his vents for the…well, MILLIONTH time this hour. Watching his lover and friend, Rodimus, pace back and forth while he tries to paint is getting beyond frustrating. Matter of fact, it’s driving him crazy, and for someone who is already certifiable, that’s bad. 

“For the love of Primus, Rodimus! Just go see Drift! Please!” That’s it! He’s done! Either Roddy listens to him or Sunstreaker will drag him to the medibay himself. “It’s been a week, almost two and you haven’t so much as walked down the hallway that LEADS to the medibay! What the frag is your problem? Just go see him…talk to him. Please. For your sanity and mine…” Bob lifts his helm up, looking curiously between his master and his master’s friend as if to remind them of his sanity as well. Sunstreaker doesn’t fail to notice it either. “…and apparently Bob’s as well,” Sunstreaker chuckles and affectionately scruffs the top of Bob’s helm and smiles radiantly at Rodimus. “Roddy, please, go see him.”

Rodimus stops his pacing and throws up his arms. “But Sunny!” He laces his hands behind his neck and resumes pacing. “You don’t understand…and how am I supposed to get past Perceptor, the walking rifle!? I swear to you, he ALWAYS has me in his sights! It’s like I can feel his monocle zeroing in on me…and have you seen his trigger fingers??!!” Rodimus has resumed the arm flailing and now emphasizes his point by gesturing as if he is holding weapons. “Every time I get within a beat of him or Drift his fingers close! Like he’s wishing he was holding a GUN! It’s always the quiet types…you think it’d be Brainstorm, cos he’s the weapons guy…all bang bang about it…but ooooooh nooooooo…it’s Percy! Percy! And when the hell did Perceptor become DEADLY!!!???” Rodimus stops his pacing and stands in front of Sunstreaker, his intakes heaving. “PERCEPTOR! PER-CEP-TOR! Deadly. I guess it’s only fitting considering his Drift is just as deadly if not worse…and then Wing…all smiles and coos and all hippy dippy about everything, and that in and of itself is just super annoying and weird and now it’s like we have TWO Drift’s running about spouting their fluff about positive energy this and positive auras or something or other that, but underneath…Sunny, underneath he is…” Rodimus whispers just for effect, getting right in front of Sunstreaker’s amused face, “…the deadliest of the trio. He's beat Drift in combat every time. EVERY. TIME. EVERY TIME SUNNY!!! And now you want me to walk into that deadly sniper-ree, assassin-ee, scary-ee nest of doom?!”

Sunstreaker fights back a chuckle and smirks, placing his hands on his captain’s shoulders, “Yes. Yes I do. You need to relax. Perceptor and Wing won’t hurt you, ya nut, now go or I will drag you there myself.” Sunstreaker swats Rodimus on his aft and directs him to the door, opens it and tosses him out. “Finally! Well, Bob, how about an energon treat for my good boy! Who’s a good boy! You are! That’s right, my Bob…we’ll make that crazy Roddy do what he needs to, won’t we, that’s right, cause Roddy is a stubborn pain in our tail pipes, isn’t he?” Sunstreaker laughs and scruffs Bob’s helm between his antennas and gives him some energon treats as he coos to him; Bob wiggling and chirping appreciatively. 

****

Rodimus makes his way to the medibay, nervously rehearsing what he’s gonna say. Dear Primus does he feel bad. He still can’t get the look on Drift’s face the day he ripped his Autobrand off and banished him, out of his processor. The hurt…the betrayal…oh Primus….Drift was--is--his best friend…Drift was right…he’s alwa--

“Oh! Hello, Rodimus! Are you going in to see Drift? He’s awake, you know, so it’s a good time,” First Aid clutches his data pad between his arms and smiles warmly, under his facemask, the smile evident in his vocalizer, interrupting the dismal captain from his unpleasant reverie outside the medibay. “You can go on in…it’s alright,”

“Oh…yeah, okay…thanks First Aid…uh...are Perceptor and Wing in there?”

“Yes, but they shouldn’t mind.” This time First Aid smiles to himself at the nervousness in Rodimus’ voice, gently patting him on the back before heading to his office.

Oh boy… “Thanks…” Rodimus walks over to the small isolation room and looks inside. Perceptor and Wing fussing over him…Drift enjoying it…Well, actually he looks exhausted and terrible. Just great…

“Oh! Hello, Rodimus! Please, come in,” Wing offers the captain a warm smile in greeting, all past animosities gone now that Drift is home safe. It would be a different story indeed if that was not the case. 

The hostilities Perceptor holds however, have nowhere near dissipated. He protectively stands in front of Drift and places a hand on the injured swordsmechs upper arm, pulling his EM field in tight and comms Wing over their private channel. :: I do not like this one bit, Wing. He should not be here. He has no right. ::

Wing has picked up on the protective gesture and the withdrawn EM field from Perceptor and returns his comm, somehow managing to keep the frown off his face at Perceptor’s words. :: Yes, I know you feel very strongly, Perceptor, but Drift and Rodimus have issues to work out and the fact that he is here looking rather miserable says to me he does in fact care and perhaps we should just trust in Drift to handle it, hm? ::

Drift looks between his future mates knowing that they are having a private conversation and knowing precisely what is being discussed over that private channel. He knows that Perceptor wants Rodimus nowhere near him and knows that Wing wants to be fair and leave it up to Drift. How very like them both and how very like him to not know what he wants to do about it. On one hand he would really like to talk to Rodimus; he has an awful lot of questions that need answers, yet on the other he just really doesn’t want to deal with it. All he wants is to just curl up and hide. He has too much to deal with right now. Way, way too much and he really can’t handle any of it and he really doesn’t want to burden anyone, ESPECIALLY Perceptor and Wing about it. Drift intakes deep, well, he can’t really, so it’s more like a sharp, clipped off, painful intake and shaky vent.

Rodimus is no fool either and can only imagine what is being discussed. “I, uh..I could come back….yeeeeeeaaaaaah, I’m just gonna do that…”

Wing gently rubs Drift’s forearm in an attempt to sooth after Drifts pained sigh, directing his attention to Perceptor with a point of his chin towards Rodimus. 

With great effort and a heavy vent, Perceptor rolls his optics at Wing and turns to face the captain. “Rodimus, Wing and I would be most appreciative if you would remain with Drift while we head to Swerve’s for sustenance. The duration of our-“

Rodimus interrupts Perceptor; really not understanding why the sniper has to use paragraphs every time he wants to speak. UGH! He wishes he’d go back to being silent! “I get it Percy. Take your time. And …thanks.” He flashes a brilliant smile at the trio.

“Wonderful! Thank you, Rodimus,” Wing smiles radiantly and turns to Drift, placing a sweet and gentle kiss on the swordsmechs cheek underneath a fresh weld that runs from Drifts chin to his optic. The jet whispers into Drifts audio, “Please, beloved, do not stress yourself out and if you wish us to return sooner, just comm us. I love you.” Drift smiles tiredly, blushing softly up at Wing, and nods. With that Wing gracefully retrieves his new Great Sword, attaching it to his back and waits by the door for Perceptor.

Rodimus smiles again at Wing and starts to walk over to Drift.

Perceptor bristles when Rodimus shortens the snipers designation. Before Rodimus can get any closer to Drift, the sniper places his hand on Rodimus’ chest and narrows his optics, glowering at the shorter mech. “You will under no circumstances get Drift all worked up, do you understand me? He is to remain calm.” 

Rodimus looks from the snipers hand to his face and bites back a not-so-nice comment and forces a smile. “Understood. I have no intention of upsetting him, Percy.” Ha! Rodimus still managed to get in at least some kinda dig. Primus Percy sure can be scary when he wants to be!

Perceptor spins back around to Drift and tenderly kisses his forehelm. “You will comm me if there is need.” Drift smiles and nods, too afraid to test his voice at the moment. The scientist turned sniper smiles at Drifts nod and plants a kiss on his cheek. “Good. I love you.” Perceptor gives Rodimus one last glare before walking over to Wing and taking his leave.

Drift watches Wing and Perceptor depart, the knot of anxiety in his belly twisting tighter. He looks up at Rodimus and fights back tears. Oh how Drift is so sick of tears and looking weak, helpless. He looks over at Rodimus and tries a small, tired smile. 

Aw, Drift…damn! Rodimus once again looks Drift over, ashamed of what his actions have wrought. If he had only of kept him on board he wouldn’t be in this state. Rodimus take a seat in the stool next to Drift’s berth. “Hey…”

Drift gathers his strength to speak, his voice strained and raspy with static. “H-Hey. T-Thanks…for…” Why on Cybertron is speaking so hard? Why does it drain his strength? “…c-coming t-t-to…find…” A tick. “…to find…me…”

Well if Rodimus’ spark hadn’t of already sunk at Drift trying to speak, the words he spoke sure did. “Drift…I…it wasn’t…it was Wing and Percy. And Ratchet. I wasn’t going to,” Dammit, that hurt him. “Over half the crew signed a petition too. See, we had found your shuttle…” Rodimus watches Drift’s expression change a multitude of times as he recounts every sordid detail. Rodimus also picks up on the fluctuating EM field of his best friend, none of it making Rodimus feel any better.

Drift listens attentively, his spark breaking at some of it, soaring at others. He had no idea how much some of the crew cared. It made him…happy, yet still…Turmoil’s words ring in his helm. Worthless. Addict. Whore. Traitor. He doesn’t deserve anyone’s love, let alone the love of Wing and Perceptor. A tremor racks his frame causing Drift to gasp sharply, shutting his optics tight. 

“Are you alright? Drift? Can I get you something? Did I do this?” Rodimus leaps up from his stool in a panic; all he can think of is Perceptor aiming down the sight of-Rodimus quickly shifts his attention from his vision back to Drift as the swordsmech adjusts to his pain.

Drift forces himself to get a grip on the pain, taking hold of it and putting it down. “…’s’alright…h-happens…”

“Ya sure? You, uh, ya look in pain…” Rodimus sits back down and watches as Drift slowly opens his optics. 

A soft snort followed by a cough. “…c-could say that…” Drift smiles sadly at Rodimus and vents. “Rodimus?”

“Yeah, Drift?”

“Why?” Drift struggles to control his ventilations, feeling all his emotions bubble to the surface, his engine giving a plaintive whine.

No amount of preparation has helped Rodimus for this. This horrible question that he knew he’d have to answer for. “Drift…I…I’m so sorry…it was cruel and I thought I was doing the right thing…”

“Why?” A choked cry and distressed engine rev.

Rodimus stares into Drift’s pale blue, liquid, pained optics and he loses it. “I-I can’t do this…I...I have to go!” Rodimus turns on his heel and dashes out of the isolation room and medibay.

Drift trembles in emotional and physical agony, the tears that threatened, now overwhelming him. All he wanted was an explanation…some kind of reason why. Why take his badge? Why banish him? Yes, he agreed to take the blame; that was always the plan, but banishment? His badge? No. That was never mentioned. Why? He needed to know. He BURNED to know. It didn’t make sense. Rodimus could have demoted him…locked him in the brig! At least he would have been here! Not being raped and tortured and humiliated over and over! Drift sobs into the empty room, each cry a choked gasp of static. He has to stop. He can’t be like this in front of Wing and Perceptor. He’s supposed to be strong and-

“Little One! Hush now…do not get yourself so worked up. What is wrong?” Axe rushes over to Drift’s side, a cautious Dai Atlas in tow. Axe smiles lovingly as a creator to his creation and gently rubs Drift’s cheek and forehelm.

Drift looks up at Axe and smiles sadly back, truly glad to see the Knight again. He leans into Axe’s gentle touch, his lower lip quivering as he tries to regain his composure. “…A-Axe…”

Another bright smile from the large black and purple triple changer. “I am here, lad. Just relax. Dai is here as well,” Axe turns and beckons his mate closer. “We came to check on you, Little One. I cannot even begin to tell you how it swells my spark with joy to see you alive and well, well for the most part at least. We are so very proud of you, Drift.”

Dai Atlas walks over at Axe’s request and stands opposite his second. Dai Atlas takes a chance and takes hold of Drift’s hand. “Very, very proud. You have done well, young Knight. More than we could ever have hoped for. I...I hope you can forgive me and how wrong I treated you when you first arrived at Crystal City.” Sincerity pulses in Dai Atlas’ EM field along with his pride for Drift.

Drift now is truly overwhelmed with tears, but these tears are ones borne of joy and relief. “…I have…w-waited…a long time…” A long tick to gather strength. “…to hear…that…h-have prayed…t-to h-hear that…” Drift takes another moment. He has so much he wants to say, but he just doesn’t have the strength. “…D-Dai…n-nothing…t-to…urgh…f-forg-give…I…it…was…urgh….m-me…m-my fault…” Another wash of tears stream down Drift’s cheeks and an EM field filled with sorrow, guilt, shame and self-loathing. “…the city…d-destroyed…cos of…m-me…” A succession of racking sobs assault Drift.

Axe and Dai Atlas exchange troubled looks, both their sparks breaking for their Little One. ::He doesn’t know, Dai…no one told him…:: “Oh Little One, no. That’s not your fault! That’s not your fault at all!” Axe does his best to embrace the much smaller mech maglocked to the berth, cooing and caressing his helm.

Dai Atlas squeezes Drift’s hand, folding his other hand over top. “Drift, that was Star Saber, not you. He betrayed us; betrayed the Circle of Light. He opened the gate and let the Legislators in. He was working with Tyrest. They very nearly destroyed us all. So you see this had nothing to do with you. Set your spark at ease, Little One.”

Axe kisses Drift’s helm and takes his other hand, still gently smoothing his forehelm, the Knights spark wrenching at how long Drift was carrying all that guilt. “Dai is right. This is not your fault at all, Little One, not at all.” Axe fills his EM field with comfort and love, consuming Drift’s agonized field with his. 

Drift’s sobs slowly recede, his guilt now finally being absolved. He leans into Axe’s calming touch, focusing on the plush EM field over his own and closes his optics, his exhaustion finally getting the better of him.

“Poor Drift. Oh Axe…he’s so distraught. Our Little One is so much more fragile than I ever thought…”

Axe frowns over at his Conjunx, “I know, Dai…I know and it worries me terribly.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so very sorry for the very slow updates...I'll be getting better, I promise! Enjoy!

“As much fun as this is with you, Perceptor, I do think we should get back to our Drift. I hate leaving him alone,” Wing squeezes Perceptor’s hand, gracefully slipping out of the booth. 

Returning the gentle squeeze with a warm smile, the sniper stands and wraps his arm the small jet’s shoulders, leading them out of Swerve’s. “Indeed, I cannot bear to be away from him any longer. And I do not like one bit that we left him alone with Rodimus,”

Wing affectionately slips his arm around Perceptor’s waist as they make their way back to the medibay, gently squeezing the snipers hip. “I know, but privacy was important, Perceptor. It is between them,”

Perceptor cycles air though his frame and vents it out heavily in reluctant agreement. “Yes, but still—“

SMACK! Rodimus runs right into the pair, effectively interrupting Perceptor. “Gah! S-Sorry!” Scrap! Of all the mechs he DIDN’T want to run into! Frag frag frag! Percy’s gonna kill him! Rodimus backs away, hands up defensively, nervous smile in place as he sputters. “L-Look, I-I…I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to get him so upset…it j-just happened! It wasn’t my intention at all! Okay?”

Wing stiffens, glaring at Rodimus and without another word the jet takes off as fast as he can to Drift, trusting Perceptor in his ability to handle Rodimus, despite the nagging warning that the sniper may very—no…not going down that line of thought. All that matters is Drift. Drift is all that EVER matters.

A deep growl leaves Perceptor vocalizer as he grabs his captain by his throat, unaware that he has also withdrawn his pistol and has it pressed against Rodimus’ temple. “You and I are going to have a ‘chat’, sir,” The words are hissed out with a snarl, the sniper harshly turning the frightened mech around and pushing Rodimus to his office, gun digging into his spoiler. 

“You WILL be brought up on charges for this, Perceptor. You have my word,” Rodimus has moved passed fear and replaced it with anger. How DARE Perceptor hold him at gun point! Oh no, no way will he be getting away with this! 

“Move!” A forceful shove, “Do you honestly think I care? You hurt Drift yet AGAIN! I will have YOU brought up on charges!” An even harder shove, Perceptor consumed with rage.

****

Wing dashes down the medibay hallway, skidding around a corner and damn near crashing into Dai Atlas and Axe. “Oh! Axe! Dai! I-I’m sorry…I need to see Drift…” The jets face is a mask of worry, his wings twitching rapidly.

“Easy there, Winglet. He’s recharging,” Axe pulls Wing into an embrace, gently petting the highly agitated jets wings in an attempt to calm him down.

Dai Atlas smiles warmly down at Wing, “Drift had a rough start to the day and exhaustion finally claimed him after we were able to calm him,”

Wing nuzzles into Axe, sighing softly, the touches to his wings feeling very good, soothing his worry a little. “So it was that bad…” He pushes away and looks anxiously up at Axe, “Please…I must go to him. Drift needs me,”

Axe smiles and kisses the top of Wings helm. “Of course, Winglet. Go to your love.”

Wing hugs the large second in command, smiling apologetically over his shoulder at Dai Atlas, who smiles kindly in return, frowning as a thought occurs to him. “Winglet!” Dai Atlas calls after the jet as he makes his way into the medibay, “Where is Perceptor?”

Wing stops in the doorway, frowning as he turns to face Dai Atlas and Axe. “He went after Rodimus…um…I think it would be wise if you two went after him…just in case. Perceptor was irate. I have a feeling they may go to Rodimus’ office…”

Dai Alas and Axe exchange a worried look and nod, quickly making their way to the captain’s office.

****

Perceptor shoves Rodimus into the door to his office. “Open it,”

Rodimus growls and violently stabs in the code, gaining entry to his office. “You are so done-AH! Hey!”

The sniper puts his pede on his captain’s aft and pushes him inside, the door closing behind him with a loud “WHOOSH”. “I beg to differ, ‘sir’, it is you, who are done. I warned you, WARNED you NOT to upset Drift! And what do you do. You upset him. Have you not done enough?!” Anger rolls off of Perceptor in waves, slamming into the EM field of Rodimus, causing him to wince.

“So you what? Put a gun in my back and threaten me?! Perceptor, you don’t understand!” Rodimus vents harshly in frustration, his fists balled up, stiff at his sides. 

Perceptor narrows his optics, his reticle zooming in on Rodimus. “I understand a great many things, Rodimus, but this…this is most certainly NOT one of them. Do you think me, stupid? Do you honestly believe that Drift could have pulled off this whole Overlord tragedy himself? Do you honestly believe that I believe it?” Perceptor smirks at the look of shame that crosses the red mechs face. “That’s what I thought. Now, if you please, sit down and start talking or I start making holes in your frame,”

***

 

Wing quietly walks into Drift’s isolation room, smiling as he sees his swordsmech peacefully recharging. The jet glides over to him, releases the maglock and crawls in beside him, glad to be alone with Drift. Wing leans in and ever so softly kisses Drift’s forehelm. The jet gently pets Drift’s helm and finials, speaking softly so as not to disturb his speedsters recharge, “My sky,” Wing smiles as he watches Drift recharge, admiring his beauty. Even now, in obvious pain, his brow furrowed ever so slightly, he is beautiful. Downright gorgeous. It’s more than his looks, though. It is his spark. Wing new from the moment his optics feasted upon Drift that the grounder had a beautiful, bright spark. And all that spark needed was someone to care for it, to nurture it, to love it. The white knight kisses Drift’s cheek, whispering against it. “My dear beloved, I am so sorry he upset you,” Wing nuzzles against Drift’s face, softly planting kisses. 

Drift intakes deep and smiles tiredly, Wing’s presence calming him. “H-Hey…” 

“Hey,” Wing smiles lovingly at the love of his life, his Conjunx, his sky, “How are you feeling? I heard Rodimus upset you,” the jet frowns and continues to gently pet Drift’s finials, shifting slightly, to carefully move Drift into his arms, so that the speedster’s helm is resting on his chest.

Drift leans into Wing’s gentle touch, rubbing his face against the knights chest and sighs heavily. “N-Need to tell you something…” 

“Of course, beloved. You can tell me anything,” 

Drift takes a moment to gather strength, “It all started before we left C-Cybertron to go in search of the Knights of Cybertron…”

 

***

“Okay, Perceptor! I will tell you everything! But first, you need to put the gun down and LISTEN to me. Please. And you might wanna sit down…”

***

“Do we go in? It’s awfully quiet…” Axe looks over at Dai Atlas, ready to break down the door, should it come to that.

“I’m not sure. I honestly don’t think Perceptor would do anything, but…”

“Maybe we’ll just ask,”

“Your way of asking, Axe?” Dai Atlas smirks and chuckles.

Axe responds with a devious smirk of his own and presses the chime to Rodimus’ office. “Well, you know how I like a bit of fun,” 

Perceptor opens the door and smiles at the two larger mechs. “I assume that you must have seen Wing, correct?”

Axe smiles wryly, “You are correct, Perceptor,” Axe shifts his gaze to Rodimus, “Everything all right?” 

Rodimus dismisses Axe and Dai Atlas with a wave. “Fine. It’s all good. We’re just talking. Isn’t that right, Perceptor?”

The sniper sets his lips into a flat line. “Yes, that is correct, Rodimus,”

“Well good. So how about you give me your weapons as a show of good faith, and then Dai and I will leave you to it, hm?”

“Very well. Here,” Perceptor hands over his two side arms and closes the door, his attention back on Rodimus. “Now, where were we…”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major spoilers from MTMTE Issue 16 and Issue 21 in the back; the short story: "The Sound of Breaking Glass" by James Roberts. It was never mentioned if Drift knew that he would be exiled and have his Autobrand removed. I have scoured every issue several times. I have read the story countless times too and it is never said. Sooooo, this my take on it. I also wondered why Brainstorm and not Perceptor...or why not both of them? Anything that is familiar, is not mine. I hope you guys like! XD

“Frag…this is gonna be harder than I thought,” Rodimus stares at his hands, carefully examining each finger as he tries to organize his thoughts. Okay, not really organize. More like delay. Yeah. Delay as much as possible.

Perceptor lets out an exasperated vent and pinches his nasal ridge. “Rodimus, I am known for my patience, but I assure you that my tolerance levels are quite low,”

“Fine, fine! Just…ugh…just gimme a minute, will ya! This is one of the worst mistakes of my life and I really should have listened to Drift…”

“YOUR mistake?” 

Rodimus laughs nervously and rubs the back of his neck, drawing out his next word very slowly, “Yeah,” Deep intake. “See…before we left Cybertron for our quest…”

***

Drift nuzzles into Wing, pulling comfort from the jets touch. “…Prowl called Rodimus and I into his office. He had a request. Prowl wanted Overlord on board. He wanted his own Phase-Sixer. I immediately told Rodimus that it was a stupid idea. A VERY stupid, VERY bad, idea,” Drift takes a moment to gather strength; it takes a lot of energy to speak and it’s driving him crazy. “I called him an idiot for even considering it…”

***

“You should have seen the look on Prowl’s face! That smug satisfaction! Like he knew that I, silly little Rodimus, couldn’t handle it! Like I couldn’t manage! Ugh! Well, I wanted to prove him wrong. Wanted to make him eat his words! No one ever has any faith in me! Well, except Drift…”

 

***

“Prowl goaded Rodimus into it. He knew EXACTLY what to say; how to push all Rodimus’ buttons and Rodimus being Rodimus, took the bait. Prowl had me, Rodimus, the Duobots and Brainstorm involved. He wanted Chromedome in on it too, but he instructed me to wait until the opportune moment to recruit him. Which I did. I had to make sure no one found out,” Drift’s vents become labored from the strain causing him to take another moment before he continues. “…w-which meant…” A small tremor assaults his frame, “w-which meant constant monitoring,” Another pause. “…s-sorry, W-Wing…”

Wing’s spark breaks as his listens to Drift, pulling him closer, soothingly rubbing his back. “It’s alright, beloved. Take your time.” Wing lovingly presses a kiss to the top of Drift’s helm.

“It…it was v-very stressful…I was on tenterhooks the whole time…and then when we picked up Fortress Maximus…” Drift looks up at Wing, tears in his optics, “Wing…” 

“I know, love. I heard what had happened to Fortress Maximus,”

“It wasn’t right to have him onboard. I begged Rodimus to just detach the cell. I didn’t…” Damnit! Drift can’t stand being weak! Deep intake. “…d-didn’t want Max to feel any more pain. He…I…Wing…I _know_ what he went through. I _know_ …”

 

“Oh, Drift…I know, I know, sweetspark,” Wing cradles Drift in his arms, nuzzling him, wishing he could take all Drift’s pain away. “None of this is your fault. None of it, Drift. You were following orders. You told them all how wrong it was. This is on Prowl and Rodimus alone. Not you,” Wing gives Drift an all too knowing look, , “You took the fall for it, didn’t you, Drift?”

Drift nods. “Rodimus has to stay in charge…” Drift’s intakes hitch. 

“Drift, that doesn’t mean you alone take the blame. There were others involved,”

“But…”

“No. No ‘buts’, Drift. You always follow orders. You are a GOOD mech. Others take advantage of you, violate you, use and abuse you and none of it is EVER your fault. That is all on them, not you. It is not your fault and I will tell you every day until you believe it. You are good and wonderful and loving and I LOVE you, Drift. I only wish you loved yourself, beloved,” Wing smiles lovingly down at the mech in his arms, softly stroking his beautiful cheek. “When we bond, beloved, I will show you how I see you. You will feel just how much I love you,”

Tears slide down from Drift’s optics and onto Wings fingers as the speedster lovingly gazes up his savior, his sun, his love. “I love you,”

“And I love you,” Wing softly trills, tenderly pressing his lips to Drift’s.

 

***

Perceptor is stunned into silence as he listens to Rodimus, sinking slowly into a chair.

“So, after Overlord escaped, Drift came to me so we could figure out what to do. I was gonna assume all responsibility, but then Drift spouted some nonsense about me _needing_ to remain in charge and, well, I let him take the fall for it. He said he take whatever punishment I deemed appropriate and that I shouldn’t tell him what it was…it’d be more believable that way. I agreed with him. I didn’t WANT him to take the blame, Perceptor, I really didn’t and looking back, I think exile and removing his Autobrand was a tad harsh…but I was angry!”

 

“A tad harsh?” Perceptor slowly stands, anger building again. “A. Tad. Harsh?”

“Okay _okay_! Really harsh…and I knew that when I saw how crushed he was after I told him. Primus, Percy, I beat myself up every day because of it! But it’s what Drift WANTED,”

Perceptor washes his face with his hands. “I…I need time to process this…” Somewhat bewildered, the sniper heads toward the door. A thought suddenly occurs to him and he turns back toward the captain. “Rodimus?”

Oh Primus here it comes…don’t ask, Perceptor…please don’t ask, “Yeah?”

“Why Brainstorm? Why not me?”

Frag. He asked. “Well, actually…you were Prowl’s first choice…”

“First?”

Frag frag frag! “Uh huh,”

“I repeat my question then, Rodimus. Why Brainstorm?”

 _Shit_. “Drift told him not to.”

“Drift.” Perceptor feels his spark wrench and drop to the floor, his whole world imploding. Drift. Drift doesn’t think him capable. Of course not. Why would he? Just one more way to keep Perceptor on the outside. And now he has Wing. Perceptor is a joke…a fool. Such a fool. 

“Perceptor? Are you alright?”

“I am fine, Rodimus. I apologize for my treatment of you. I assure you it will not happen again. Good day.” Perceptor turns around and walks out.

 

“Way ta go, Roddy. You just can’t help yourself, can you?”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is full of angst and broken sparks...and then I lost myself in it lol...side stories just keep demanding my attention in this one. :P
> 
> Oh! And this one has some human cursing. But just a bit. But it has a point.

Wing slowly pulls back from their kiss, his forehelm resting on Drift’s, their lips still pressed together as the jet smiles against them. “I have missed you so,”

Drift smiles back, a giddiness he hasn’t felt in a long time washing over him. Wing is here! With me! He’s alive and okay and we kissed! A blissful cycle of warm air vents from Drift’s chassis as he tenderly suckles Wing’s lower lip, savoring the taste of Wing. His Wing. 

“Wing…I have missed you terribly…it phys-” a pause for strength, “…p-physically hurt. There was…IS… so much I-I wanted to say…t-to tell you,” Drift’s intakes hitch and he coughs. Damnit! 

Wing opens his optics and smiles that beautiful smile, softly rubbing Drift’s nose with his own.

“I know, my love and we will have all the time we need to tell each other. I promise,” Wing lovingly trails a finger over one of Drift’s finials, enjoying the way his swordsmech pushes into the intimate touch, instantly calming. 

Wing ever so gently plants a sweet kiss on Drift’s forehelm and carefully pulls him closer. “Rest now, beloved.”

A soft purr takes flight from Drift’s vocalizer as he pushes into those oh-so-nice touches to his highly sensitive finials. All his worries evaporate as Wing cradles him in his arms. “O-Okay…I love you, Wing,” Drift nuzzles into Wing as the jet pulls him closer.

Wing trills and lovingly returns the nuzzles, his spark singing with joy. “I love you too, Drift. Forever and ever.”

***

Unbeknownst to both mechs, Perceptor had made his way to the medibay and has watched the entire exchange between the two swordsmechs. 

Wow. They look so perfect together. There is such a _rightness_ about it. The way they gaze into each other’s optics; it’s as if no one else exists, no one else matters; as if no one else needs to exist to matter, especially Perceptor. His spark can’t take much more of this. Everything was going so well. He should have…he REALLY should have known better. Once Drift saw Wing, Perceptor knew it was over. How strange that he didn’t feel any jealousy at first. Drift told him that he loved him. Hmpf. Exactly. Loved. Past tense. Loved until Wing. Foolish scientist. Drift didn’t have enough faith in him to handle Overlord. Drift doesn’t _trust_ Perceptor. Unbelievable. And just look at how much Drift trusts Wing. His reactions are so instantaneous they are instinctive. Perceptor really can’t watch anymore of this. It is far too painful. The sniper turns and leaves heading back to his habitation suite in a daze.

Perceptor enters his hab suite, activating the lock code after the door silently closes. He staggers to his berth, clutching his chest; right over his spark. _Oh Drift! I almost had you…_ The sniper collapses onto his berth, curling onto his side, staring at the door, foolishly hoping for Wing to come and tell him Drift is asking for Perceptor. 

“Oh, Drift! I love you! Why can you not love me too?! Why am I not good enough?! Why?!” Perceptor screams out into the tenebrosity of his hab suite, tears streaming down his cheek from his good optic. 

Perceptor never stood a chance. What a fool to even think someone as plain and boring…as _dull_ as him even stood a chance. Even his frame is boring! And how could he when compared to Wing?! Glorious, saintly, magnificent, graceful, fierce, talented, deadly, kind, caring, intelligent, gorgeous, beautiful—achingly beautiful—Wing. The one thing— _the only_ —thing he had going for him, his superior intelligence, wasn’t even good enough! 

“ARGH!” What a fool! What a glorious fool Perceptor is. Brainstorm probably loved every minute of it too. Finally one-upping Perceptor! Splendid…just fragging wonderful. 

“I wish you would have just let me die on Turmoil’s ship, Drift. It would have been far kinder than this…” Perceptor curls into a little ball and for the first time in a very long time, cries himself to recharge. 

*** 

Frag, Rodimus…really?! Sunstreaker storms to Rodimus’ office fuming. Hours. A whole day filled with hours. Lonely hours. That’s how long his so-called mech has been avoiding him. Ever since he told Rodimus to go talk to Drift he hasn’t seen him. If that slagger still has a crush…see! This is EXACTLY why he didn’t want to get involved in the first fraggin’ place! He’d better have a good reason. A very, _very_ good reason. 

Bob trails behind Sunstreaker whining pitifully at his masters fluctuating EM Field. As Sunstreaker comes to a halt in front of Rodimus’ door, Bob pouts and whimpers, looking up at him rather pathetically, his little claw scratching at Sunstreaker’s leg. 

The golden mech heaves a trying sigh and pets his friend’s helm, before pressing the chime. “I’m alright, buggy,” He hopes. “Roddy, it’s Sunstreaker. Open up,” 

“Go away, Sunny,” 

Fragger. “Not a chance, Roddy and what did I tell you about that? C’mon…open up,” 

Rodimus growls, reluctantly lifting his helm from the solace of his desk, pushing back on his desk, sliding back on his chair. He gets up and drags himself over to the door and opens it. 

“What is it, Sunny? Have another bad recharge replay? Cos if you did, I’m really not in the mood to deal with your ancient baggage,” 

Sunstreaker’s spark lurches up to his throat, his engine stalling out, his field fizzling out and closing off. The former pits mech pulls his plating tight to his frame and quickly shuts off all his emotional centers. This is exactly why. This is the second time his spark shattered. The first was when Ratchet rejected his advances. Anything that might have existed between him and Rodimus died the minute his captain uttered those words. Without a word Sunstreaker turns, transforms and speeds off to Swerve’s. Yup, he’s getting fucked up tonight. And now he’s using human curse words! FUCKING HUNTER! Nope…not doing it. Not shutting down the anger. That’s his cushion. His safety net. Damnit, Rodimus! 

Rodimus watches Sunstreaker tear aft away from him and he can’t even find it in himself to care. He looks down at Bob, “What?” 

Bob narrows all his optics and growls feral up him then takes off after his master. Master will need his Bob. Yup. He will. 

“Frag you too, Bob,” Rodimus turns and locks his door, resuming his previous activities, grateful to be alone again. 

*** 

For the first time in a long time, Ratchet finds himself in Sweve’s. Okay, maybe not THAT long, but long enough that by his third glass of engex, he’s feeling a pleasant buzz. His worry over Drift has finally gotten the better of him. It all finally caught up and smacked him in the face and he really couldn’t take another night of fending off First Aid’s advances. Ratchet knows he just wants to help and isn’t looking for anything serious—from him anyway, because he’s he not a huge, traumatized, former warden with guns in his legs—but Ratchet just doesn’t want to burn off a charge with another medic, and so he found himself wandering here. 

“Another one, doc?” Swerve asks, cheerful smile in place. 

“Yeah, something a little less strong,” 

“No problem! Here ya go!” 

Ratchet watches as Swerve pours him a glass of something light blue with speckles of violet and hands it to him, clearing away the empty glass. 

“Thanks, Swerve,” 

“Sooooo….ya wanna tal—“ 

Ratchet narrows his optics, “No,” 

“Gotcha! Moving on!” Not phased in the slightest, Swerve moves on. 

To a very upset looking Sunstreaker at the end of the bar. 

Frag me in the…this is so not good. “Swerve! Get back here!” 

“Yeah, doc?” 

“First off, stop calling me doc,” Ratchet waits for a nod, “Second, do not give Sunstreaker anything, Swerve, you listen to me, DO NOT give him anything strong. I mean it. Make me another one of these and meet me over by Sunny, nod if you understand,” 

Nodding. 

“Good boy,” Ratchet heads over to Sunstreaker and takes a seat next to him. Not surprisingly, anyone in his immediate vicinity scattered away almost instantly. 

“Hey, Sunstreaker,” 

Sunstreaker ignores Ratchet, “Swerve! Nightmare fuel! Now!” Go away, Ratch…please just leave…Sunstreaker can’t take his rejection again. Not on top of this… 

Swerve walks over and nervously places the same concoction he made for Ratchet, in front of the frontliner. 

“What the fuck is this shit?” Sunstreaker growls quietly at himself. 

“Uh, what? Um…from the do—I mean him,” Swerve points to Ratchet and pretends to hear someone calling for him and quickly removes himself from the dark glare of Sunstreaker The Terrifying. “Be right there! Excuse me…” 

Not good. Human slang. Aw, Sunny. “How ‘bout ya come with me, over to that corner booth and keep this old mech company?” Ratchet stands and picks up Sunstreaker’s drink. 

Great. He’s using that Chief Medical Officer tone with me. Sunstreaker huffs hot air out of his vents, his helm fin slats fluttering softly and reluctantly stands, following Ratchet. “Fine. But don’t expect me to be pleasant. Or good company.” 

“Never do, Sunshine,” Ratchet smirks and slides into the booth. 

Sunstreaker hisses and slides across from Ratchet. 

Bob, finally catching up, bounces over and sniffs around Ratchet, rubbing against the medics legs in approval. Bob then happily settles himself on Sunstreaker’s pedes. 

Sunstreaker stares at his drink, swirling around the blue and violet liquid, grinding his denta together. Fucking Rodimus. Fucking Hunter. Fucking stupid human words! How is he still this messed up?! He’s never gonna be right again! Pathetic. So fragging pathetic. And now Ratchet is here, probably pitying him. Why can’t he just be left alone? All he wants is to sit here—ALONE—and drink himself into oblivion, but nooooo, he can’t even have that! He can’t have anything! He can’t recharge, he can’t have a relationship; he can’t have one iota of peace! Sunstreaker growls and half sobs, squeezing his glass so hard it shatters in his hand, watching as his energon mingles with his drink, noting the brilliant swirl of colors and how the violet specks catch the light and sparkle different shades…huh… 

“Aw, Sunny…” Ratchet slides closer, pulling a cloth from his subspace and starts to wipe away the mess. “Let me see your hand,” Ratchet pulls some gauze from his subspace along with some cleanser. 

“It's fine,” Sunstreaker tries to pull his hand away, but Ratchet has none of that. 

“Quit being so damned stubborn and let me see,” Ratchet gently grabs Sunstreaker’s wrist, pouring the cleanser on his palm. 

Now visible, a varying array of glass shard sizes protrudes from the golden mechs palm. Ratchet transforms his pointer finger into tweezers and begins to remove them one at a time, a fresh flood of energon after each piece is removed. 

“I’m fine,” 

“Says the mech with glass in his hand,” 

“Ratchet,” 

“Don’t you Ratchet me, Sunny. You shut up and let me do my job,” 

Sunstreaker can’t help but smile at that. He always did love Ratchet acerbic berthside manner. Sunstreaker turns his optics from his hand to Ratchet’s face, watching the medic concentrate on his task. 

Ratchet finishes up, transforming his finger back, and wraps Sunstreaker’s hand in a mesh bandage. “There. Just leave this on for a few hours until your self-repair heals the cut lines,” 

Ratchet startles a bit at the look in Sunstreaker’s optics and the medic feels his faceplates heating up in a blush. 

“Thanks, Ratch,” Sunstreaker’s vocalizer is thick with static as he speaks. He turns his hand over and takes hold of Ratchet’s, rubbing his thumb over the top of Ratchet’s hand. 

Ratchet’s blush deepens and he swears it the engex catching up with him, not the fact that a gorgeous mech is holding and rubbing his hand. Gorgeous?! When did he start thinking of Sunny as gorgeous? Uh, always. Yeah. Always. He—ooooh—oh that, well now that feels _good_. 

Sunstreaker smirks as his fingers gently stroke the inside of Ratchet’s palm. Damn, he really does have it bad for Ratchet 

And this is why Ratchet has always tried to avoid Sunny. Ratchet can’t help himself around him. He tried to think of him as his charge, but that didn’t work. He’s had feelings for Sunny for a long, LONG time. Ratchet just never acted because well, frankly, he was always afraid of getting too close and not being able to repair him the next time he ended up on a circuit slab in front of him. Sunstreaker was always on the front lines and then after The Machination...Ratchet can’t lose him. It’s selfish, he knows, but his spark just couldn’t take it. 

“Sunny…” Damnit! Does he have to look so utterly lost? 

Sunstreaker’s spark sinks. Again. He releases Ratchet’s hand starts to get up. 

Slag it all… “Sunny,” Ratchet grabs Sunstreaker’s hand and pulls him back down. By the Matrix he can’t stand to see Sunny looking like that. 

Sunstreaker’s spark leaps as Ratchet takes his hand and pulls him down. Ratchet looks…different somehow. Frag it. He’s gonna go for it. Sunstreaker grabs the CMO’s cheek with one hand and pulls him close, pressing their lips together. 


End file.
